2012 Olympic Recollections no. 4.

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 102 (perhaps):- A flag is a flag is a flag … so what is so special about this flag? How old do you reckon it might be? What are its dimensions?

Dear Blog,

Earlier this year when it was announced that LOCOG would be allocating tickets to Olympians relevant to their Olympic event, I half joked with you Blog that it was just my luck that I chose to run the marathon in the Olympic Games and I would therefore be allocated a street corner on some street in Central London on which to view the Olympic Marathon pass. All Olympians were allocated two sets of two tickets each. Yes, Blog, I watched the Men’s and Women’s Marathons. I also watched the two Walks. From our camp site in London, it was straight onto the Victoria underground line to Green Park, and a 400 yard (metre to you Bog) walk down to Constitution Hill. For the 50 kilometre Walk, I assumed that, as the event would be lasting some four hours, spectators would not be arriving too early to stand around for the best part of a day in anticipation of the Walk to come. I thought they would roll up during the course of the race to have a little look at what was going on, so they could boast to their friends and acquaintances that they had been to the Olympics, done the Olympics and got the Olympic t-shirt. I was totally wrong. 90 minutes before the start of the 50 kilometre Walk the pavements were crammed, three or four deep, never mind the sun beating down. It was mind bogglingly full. Ballsed up there then Colin!! As we approached the barriers, I spotted a gap in the crowds of about 20 yards (20 metres to you Blog) where no one was standing. Strange??? Especially as opposite, on the other side of the road was the drinks station for the walkers as they returned towards Buckingham Palace. The lap turn was just up the road, clearly visible. A couple of people were sat spread on the pavement behind the retaining barriers; no one else in the gap which afforded excellent views of not only the line of tables acting as one of the feed stations but of the course turn just up the road. That was all. Strange or what? The rest was space. Barriers holding back the pressing spectators elsewhere, but here there was no crowd jammed together, just those three people sat on the kerbside behind the barrier. As my wife, my daughter and I drew closer, it became apparent that the top of the barrier had dozens of small Chinese flags jammed in place. Tiny red banners hanging limply in the hot morning sun. So that was it. A territorial claim. An obvious pre-emptive strike to assert ownership of a section of desirable British real estate and declare U.D.I. on behalf of the People’s Republic. No way Yingsay … no way. This bit of Constitution Hill will be forever England, despite any thoughts of Chairman Moa to the contrary. Like the USS Ulysses with its backup fleet steaming into the Straits of Formosa in the 24^th century to establish opposition to Eastern Empire’s expansionism and to protect the rights of the democratic West, I sailed straight into the space and leant across the barrier amongst the little red banners staking my claim to this Little bit of Britain; this stretch of our sceptre isle would be safe in my hands, at least until after the Race Walk had finished. Unfortunately, my back up flotilla of wife and daughter succumbed to the aggressive stance offered by the threat the four seated Chinese and steered off to the starboard to avoid confrontation and to fight for space amongst the crowds. I dropped my shoulder bag onto the pavement, staking my claim to squatter’s rights, establishing a foothold amongst this attempted land grab. None of your communist Rachmanism here Yingsay. What did I do you ask Blog?? I showed a stiff upper lip and I poured myself a cup of Earl Grey tea (no milk, no sugar) to show I was not going to be intimidated. Of course, I normally have Lapsang at this early hour but I felt that the sound of Lapsang pouring into my beaker would give these Chinese johnnie wallahs the idea that I was trying to convey to them a subliminal message that I was only being superficially belligerent and I really wanted to be subservient. So Earl Grey it had to be. By the time my tea had cooled enough to sip, the Chinese contingent had grown to more than half a dozen, all talking animatedly amongst themselves. It was evident that they were not voting for me to be this month’s Red Dragon. They were clearly agitated at my presence at ‘their’ section of barrier. I swear I heard a couple of four letter hanzi. Blog I kid you not. I thought these young Chinese would have had more decorum? Swearing like that in public. With young children around as well. And the women were just as bad as the men. Really. I ask you, what is the world coming to? One student was going ballistic on his mobile. After eleven and a half minutes of eye ball to eye ball stand-off, three more young men arrived each carrying a heavy sack, which they plonked down on the grass border, opened and proceeded to throw the contents at me; Little Red Books! Blog, would I kid you? The situation was not getting better. Of course, even at that close range, some of the Little Red Books missed me and flew over the barriers onto the road course which was to be used for the 50 Kilometre Race Walk, soon to start. The race officials were not amused, not amused at all. They started gathering up the Little Red Books and started lobbing them back over the barrier. The Chinese took this to be an aggressive act of retaliation. They were livid. Time for a master stroke of diplomacy, I thought. So I gathered up all the Little Red Books lying on the pavement around me, and there were quite a few. I made them into a neat little stack, a platform about two feet high (60 centimetres to you Blog) onto which I clambered. It afforded me an excellent view up and down Constitution Hill. I could even see my wife and daughter further down the road among the packed crowds straining for a glimpse of the roadway. I waved to them but they pretended not to notice.  I felt proud to be British, perched up there above the threatening yellow peril. Because of the attitude of the score or so Chinese, I feared that the atmosphere was distinctly poisonous. I felt that the thirty plus Chinese at any time might resort to violence. I think that at this point, had I owned a mobile phone, I would have been tempted to get in touch with one of the armed Jaguar helicopters gunships circling overhead to warn them of my plight and to inform the troops on top of the tower block with their ground to air missiles, to retarget their fire power onto the Chinese Embassy. Just in case. Forty Chinese crowding around me trying intimidation tactics was unnerving but I had the advantage of superior height from my vantage point. As a nation, they tend to be little short arses anyway. I didn’t like to ask what had happened to their inscrutability. It might have sounded provocative in the circumstances. Instead, I adopted an imperialist attitude. In the face of growing odds, I thought of the British Empire and what it stood for. The Empire strikes back and all that. My demeanour would have been regarded by the British Raj fighting the Chinese on the North West frontier as inspirational. Just then a foreign lady pushed her way through the fifty Chinese to the front of the barrier to get a good view of the Walk Race when it finally got underway. I thought she was going to offer moral support to my resistance of the communist threat. I think she may have been Ecuadorian. I could be wrong, Blog. But she started shouting at me. All I could make out was ‘Julian this’ and ‘Julian that’. I was most surprised, taken aback I can tell you. To have a discussion about the Mandelbrot set at 9 o’clock in the morning in central London was not what I was expecting when I got up that morning. But then. Each to his own, I say. In factal, by the time we had got onto the finer points of the algorithm, and our mutual admiration of the work of Carolina Reed, I could see she was coming around to my way of thinking and we began to form an tentative Anglo-Ecuadorian alliance against the Sino expansionism along the barrier away from Buckingham Palace, up constitution Hill towards where the 50 kilometre Race Walk would turn around at the end of each two kilometre lap. Together we seemed to be having a calming effect on the diplomat spat with the Eastern tourists. The threat of armed conflict was receding, there now appeared little chance of the situation deteriorating into a proxy war in Syria, with the possibility of it spiralling into a release of chemical agents and finally mushrooming out of control into a nuclear reaction force invading the drinks station across the road. Both parties were beginning to accept a mutually neutral stance in the certain knowledge that a further conflagration of bad feelings would lead to us all missing the Race Walk. So, when the Race Walk Referee on his final inspection of the course spotted me at the side of the road and came over to chat, and when he was joined by two of the Race Walk Managers assisting at their respective feed station opposite, coupled with a Walk Olympian from a couple of years back adding his tuppence (one new pence to you Blog), the atmosphere around me suddenly changed. There was a definite easing of tension. The Chinese obviously saw that I was an important person. An Olympian of renown. They all bowed to me in respect. I smiled benignly. As Great Britain did not have a competitor in the 50 kilometre Race Walk and to show there was no lasting ill feelings between us, I thought it only fair that I cheered loudly every time that the Chinese walkers passed by on both sides of the road. The Chinese spectators obviously appreciated my gesture. More so when Si Tianfeng took the bronze medal and I gave the thumbs up sign to my erstwhile fellow adversaries. The seventy Chinese and I parted with friendly handshakes all round and an exchange of flags. Bless.

                         Colin.

P.S. I will drop you a note Blog about the 20 kilometre Walk and the Men’s and the Women’s Marathon races. Something for you to look forward to?

P.P.S. How much do you think my Chinese flag will fetch on e-bay Blog? How much will it raise for the children's charity for disable children, Tiny Tims Chilren's Centre in Coventry??

Licenced to run? Ho ho heaven.

Dear Blog,

 Firstly my sincere apologies, you must think me terribly rude. My letter to you of a few weeks back must have slipped down the back of handkerchief drawer and I have just found it because I wanted a handkerchief to wipe away my tears and have just opened the drawer to get one. With it closed, there was no chance. Why was I crying you ask? You may well ask. I’ll tell you why I was crying Blog. The garden is a disaster. A DISASTER. With all the rain and the subsequent repeated flooding of the estate, nothing has grown. I shall need a food famine relief parcel from UNESCO by Christmas as my meagre stocks of home grown vegetables will be exhausted. I spent all yesterday searching for potatoes. In the end I had to dial 999 to get the police search and rescue helicopter out with their infra-red heat seeking device to locate my spuds. I had the estate staff on the ground following the police in the sky instructions. After a couple of hours we got all excited as a positive hit was made by the helicopter. We all stopped what we were doing and rushed over to the spot the policeman indicated … but when we arrived we found that the slugs had beaten us to it, and all that remained was a sogggggy mush. It’s the same with the other crops. Nowt. Nothing. Zilch. Zero. Buggerall. It’s like that bloke reading the football results on the wireless on a Saturday night when I was a kid.

Gardner’s Premier League

Pear Tree 0             Plum Tree 0

Potatoes 0               Damsons 0

Red Currants 0       Blackcurrants 0 (match abandoned in June, the replay will be in May 2013)

Cabbages  0            Brussels  0

Caulis  0                  Curly Kale 1

Purple Sprouting  0  White Sprouting 0

Corn 4                    Broad Beans 6 

Runners Beans 0    French Beans 2   (Latest Score. The start was held up by a sudden downpour)

Oh yes, back to the letter I thought I had sent you Blog … one does get carried away sometimes. As I said, I wrote to you a couple of weeks ago to say that I had had a letter from England Athletics which included my Competitors Licence and I ended my little message to you to say that I was going out for a trudge to calm down ….. Why so long to calm? Why so long to complete the message to you to explain why was I hot under the collar? First I had a small problem of an agonising back pain, so severe that I was not be able to trudge so I was not able to calm down. Six weeks of excruciating pain … and I do mean excruciating with a double capital ‘EE’. Could NOT jog / trudge / walk. Couldn’t lie down, spent six weeks in a chair. Well, have I calmed down ….. you may ask why I was uptight. Alright, Blog. I’ll tell you why. The letter from England Athletics was from my friend, John Graves, the Chairman of England Athletics. John and I go back a long, long way, both as work colleagues in the same mathematics department at more than one school and also as members of the same running club. His children also had the privilege of being taught by me, an experience which has stood them in very good stead for their adult life, even if I modestly say so myself. An experience which has stood them in very good stead for their adult life. They are so lucky to have had such a solid start in life. Don’t you wish your children had been so lucky Blog? I am assuming that you do have children Blog. In the envelope containing my Competition Licence, was details of special offers available to me as a result of being a fully signed up member of England Athletics. I think I wrote to you a few weeks back in another letter about how we like to press the self-destruct button at every possible opportunity in our sport. When do I need my Licence to run? Road races certainly don’t bother to ask whether I have been certified, more so the races which are the Big City affaires or the increasing number of promotions which are organised by the new wave of independent race organisers. Never needed it. Also enclosed in the envelop was a range of ‘offers’ mostly involving a certain sports company. These offers are really derisory, schoolboy stuff. Is it part of the pretend world in which athletics lives; to make such offers appear unmissable when really, most are either expensive tat or items of expensive kidology? Along with the special offers and the proclamation about how the income of the sport has been spent, there are barely veiled dark warnings about what is going to happen post Olympics when the government funding is cut. And cuts there will be, Blog. Mark my word Blog. Just as there will also be resignations. Mark my word Blog. Just as we will lose sponsors. Mark my word Blog. What an opportunity England Athletics has missed when the sport was awash with money. A legacy …. Eg. Set up some kind of liaison with ACPO to facilitate local road races is one area which would have had a long lasting financial benefit to clubs and club members; it would have been a genuine legacy. Of much more use spending money than on organising another airy fairy scheme to conduct a poll about some nonsense or other; of much more use than spending money on another awards dinner for ‘the best of …’. Awards ceremony this, awards ceremony that, awards ceremony for the best awards ceremony … everyone is at it. The local rag has just featured an awards ceremony for ‘the best dog’. For heaven’s sake, give it a rest????? An idea. Some serious money could have been invested by England Athletics to set up a swipe card system activated by the Competition / Officials / Coaches Licence. Using a swipe card for entries, hours of officials input time feeding names into a computer programme at athletics meetings could have been saved; results production after competitions would have been a snip. Pre entries for road races would no longer be necessary, eliminating all the paper shoving and postal faff. Clubs would have real time data about membership, unsanctioned road races could be controlled, brought under the umbrella of England Athletics. Monies could be spent in producing an on-going information leaflet to be sent to unattached athletes but all that is too late. So what happened with all the quids? I’ll tell you what happened to all the lolly in athletics Blog. Over the last six years, I believe some 1000+ athletes have been supported. Although I am probably wrong Blog. I believe the cost of each athletic medal won, according to one newspaper, was £2.7m. Although I am probably wrong Blog.  Another idea. The athletic authorities could have saved millions of quids if they had hired me. But too late now mate. I think I will sell my services to the media and join my mate Dorian. So to sum up … my back’s better ... trudging is possible … and I am calm ... and I am down.

                                         Colin

2012 Coventry Half Marathon

Moan Blog, moan. MOAN.

  Legacy? Legacy?? What legacy in Coventry Blog??? Gimme the quids. Gimme.

I’ve moaned to you before Blog about the fact that the City Council (Leisure Department) have all but killed serious road running in Coventry because of their over the top demand for road closure for club running races by requiring many quids for such a closure. The annual FUN RUN around the central city Precinct survives because the Rotary Club can, presumably, cough up the dosh? Coventry Half Marathon seems to stagger from the sublime to the ridiculous but continues because it is organised (in the very broadest sense of the word) by an outside company charging many quids for the privilege of trogging up and down the highways and the byways around Coventry. Many races survive in nearby local authorities’ areas because they employ a degree of common sense to health and safety issues which seem to be absent in Coventry. Last year the city half marathon clashed with the long established half marathon race in Kenilworth, three miles down the road from Coventry!! To pacify local dismay amongst club athletes, the organisers offered an award to the man and woman performing best in both races. The two athletes concerned are still awaiting their two prizes! WAITING STILL. Presumably, despite enquires, the organisers (in the very broadest sense of the word) must have lost interest in their promise after their event had finished!! Water under the bridge and all that!! I don’t suppose the council was too bothered about the actions of their agents?? So Kenilworth survived the competition. Yes Blog, the pun was intended. Stick with it please. Pay attention. This year the city half marathon clashes with the long established 10 mile road race in Rugby, eight miles down the road from Coventry!! The Rugby 10 is part of the Warwickshire Road Race League, formed a few years ago by local clubs to encourage road running in the area … including Coventry. Perhaps the organisers (in the very broadest sense of the word) might offer a prize to pacify the local dismay amongst club athletes to the man and woman who perform best in both races?? I believe that the organising (in the very broadest sense of the word) company have a couple of prizes spare?? I could be wrong?? I wonder if the company which organises (in the very broadest sense of the word) the half marathon realise that by avoiding local race clashes, many marshals might be available to help them?? This would avoid the race referee having to cycle around the course before the race urging spectators to occupy the road thereby acting as unpaid de facto race marshals. This happened last year Blog. I kid you not!! And with marshals, it might mean that the race might start on time?? And it might mean that the leaders will not have to run further than the scheduled 13 miles 196 yards as happened last year .. Blog, would I kid you?? I kid you not!! And I do hope that the organisers (in the very broadest sense of the word) have enough ‘goodie’ bags to go round. And I hope the organisers (in the very broadest sense of the word) have enough t-shirts to go round. I suppose with a new sponsor, all will be well???

                                                            Colin

Marathon Training Tips in Six Easy staps - step 2

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no 110:- well actually no photo but an answer. An answer Blog!!

               Olympic Rings revisited   … yes, if you check my letter to you about the rings Blog, you will have spotted that it was Melbourne which broke the mould and did a different arrangement!!!!!!!!!!!!! I hope you haven’t lost that letter from 8th April??? OLYMPIC RINGS. Look carefully at the Melbourne logo and you will see what I mean. Now it will only be another minimum of 30 Olympiads before all my variations are used up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hi Blog,

You will have noticed from the above picture when compared to the first marathon tip that development has taken place after a month of steady effort. So the first month of advice is over, the foundation has been laid. Now is the time to introduce efficiency of effort whether you train once, twice or three times per day or once, twice or three times per week. Because there is life after athletics –

Rule 1:- Make sure most of your friends are NOT athletes.

Rule 2:- Get a life – stop talking about running, races athletics, athletes.

Rule 3:- Switch off all that rubbish about athletics on your computer.

Rule 4:-Slot training in, don’t waste a whole evening travelling to a running club, to change into kit, to go for a run, to shower and change after training, to go into the club house for a chat, to travel home from the running club …… why not run to and from work to save time …. Why not go out for a run as soon as you come home from work … and you have a whole evening to live a ‘normal’ life, to do what you want away from athletics.

Rule 5:-To save time why not wear you next set off training kit under your normal clothes … the amount of time you can save is amazing. Try it Blog.

Rule 6:- Make training pleasant. Choose nice surroundings. Avoid training as soon as you get up in the morning, give your body time to wake up before you go out. Wear enough clothes to keep warm in the winter and keep cool in the summer.

Rule 7:- From what I said last time about adaptation, chuck all those expensive silly sports drinks away. Get your body used to operating without liquid. Depravation leads to adaptation. You heard that first here Blog. DEPRAVATION LEADS TO ADAPTATION. Wear a little extra kit to over sweat to get the body used to the heat of competition. DEPRAVATION LEADS TO ADAPTATION. If you must have a recovery drink after a workout, try a splash of orange diluted with a little salt and a little fructose!!!!!

                                                              Colin

2012 Olympic Impressions 3

Dear Blog,

 So on my day off from the pressure of intense competition, I took the opportunity to visit the local museum to complete a section of my research which had been causing some problems. Conflicting evidence needed resolving about Godiva’s first world record holder. Complete? Joking!! For every answer I found I ended up with two more questions so another trip to London will be needed. Now, it is hard to believe but shielded and hidden amongst the modern urban sprawl of the suburbs of London is a little gem. Although now in a conservation area, Walthamstow Old Village has remained untouched for years and years. If it wasn’t for the very occasional car crawling along the narrow confine of streets, the impression you get is of a Georgian / Victorian film set; except it not a man built set but a man built real life village which time has passed by. Slowly. A gem with a capital ‘G’!! The old church, the churchyard full of listed 18^th and 19^th century sarcophagi and tombs of the local rich gentry, the alms-houses, the pub, the narrow streets, the half-timbered buildings, the museum. Unbelievable. Vestry House itself is worth a visit. The whole lot about a mile walk from where the family was camping for the Olympic Games. Half way between was the local civic offices where the Godiva Awakes Cyclopedia finished its trek to London from Coventry for the Cultural Olympiad. Type ‘Godiva Awakes’ into your search goggle and highlight ‘images’ Blog. It is worth it. Remember my son-in-law was responsible for the engineering involved!! The camp site where we were staying was a sports complex of half a dozen 5-a-side all weather pitches encased in netting cages, a full size pitch with stands and seating for the local football club, two grass pitches and a full size all weather pitch which could be subdivided into four smaller pitches when required. One of the grass pitches, a small all-weather pitch and the odd bit of spare ground was given over to tents for the duration of the Games, most being occupied by the Volunteers. The place was crammed but did have the advantage of 24 hour access to showers, kitchen facilities and the bar which opened at 4am for breakfast for the early Volunteers and continued until 11pm serving meals for those late returning Volunteers who were in need of sustenance after a long day at the various venues. Six large screen TVs were available in the bar and the recreation room for the campers to view what sports they had missed during the day. Although the camping areas was rammed and we were squashed up against the meshed fence next to the large all weather pitch, the advantage was that I could sit in the sun during the day and evening watching the footballers train. During the day from 9:30am to 3:30pm, it was the various Spurs youngsters being put through their pre-season suffering by the Premier League club’s coaches. Most interesting. What was illuminating was the fact that despite the possibility of mega bucks in the not too distant future, very few of the footballers put themselves out by driving their bodies too hard; too often cutting corners in their training routine by doing the acceptable minimum. The footballers didn’t seem to understand that going the extra mile and pushing themselves just that little bit more might make all the difference to their future prospects of success; and quantity of available mega quids! Reminded me of modern day athletic training with the coaches and their armful of badges!!

And three miles up the road was Epping Forest for the odd trudge or three.

                                                                          Colin

2012 olympic Impressions 2

Dear Blog,

Date line: Tuesday:- I have been given a free ticket to attend the Olympic Greeko – Romantic Wrestling. Not Free style Wrestling. Certainly not the type of wrestling that was on ITV on a Saturday afternoon at my Granny’s when I was a kid. No, here you are given value for money as three fights take place simultaneously! From one of the best seats in the house, I try to look intelligent and work out what on earth is going on. The arena is stuffed full to the rafters. 20,000 spectators seated on all four sides of the massive hall at the XL Centre. We are packed so tight that if a spectator sneezes, it triggers a Mexican Wave that circles the Hall for half an hour until it is finally dampened with the inertia of tired bodies standing up and sitting down. Under intense lighting, on the raised platform in the centre of Hall are three fight mats, each with large red and blue concentric circles, with a small circle at the centre in which the fight starts. More than one weight fights at a time; as soon as one bout finishes the next starts. Each pair of fighters is heralded into the arena lead by a flag bearing official and their national anthem, a fanfare takes place at the end of each bout as the fighters are lead out. The mats are adjacent with four massive TV screens above each mat, the commentator is yelling continuously about the proceedings of each mat, his comments come at random about which fight takes his fancy. The cacophony of sound hurts. Each fight has three rounds of two minutes with a minute between. Points seem to be given for falls, throws and / or style. ‘On Mat Two, Fukajima is attempting a kimihari.’ While the fight on Mat One has ended and someone has chucked a brick onto Mat Three and the bout has been halted. The winner of a bout is the best of three. Points scored in a bout go only towards winning that round, so a wrestler can score eight points while the victor can take the fight with three point because he has won more bouts. ‘Hookiaro has just pulled off a sensational satsumi on Mat Three.’. The fight on Mat Two has ended but the Turkish wrestler refuses to leave. If a fighter wins the first two rounds the third round is abandoned as pointless because it is impossible for the other fighter to win, already being two bouts to nil down. The brick incident on Mat Three has been sorted …. It took me half the afternoon to work out that the brick is lobbed onto the mat to indicate an objection to the referee’s points score, THAT fight grinds to a halt while the judges watch a replay on one of the banks of huge TV screens, and the commentator tries successfully to whip 50% of the crowd into a frenzy over the final outcome of the appeal, 25% are watching another bout while the other 25% could not give a toss. ‘Natajack has just avoided a Tammikoosang’ on Mat One. Mat Two has just started with a new bout as the Turkish athlete has finally conceded defeat and left the room; his head hidden under a towel while half the room boo and stamp at his departure. An impasse has been reached on the middle mat as we are 90 seconds into the final bout with one round scored each. So. To obtain a winner in the final 30 seconds, the referee has the fighter in the red swimming costume, crouch, doggie style in the small centre circle while the fighter in the blue swimming costume cuddles up to him. On a signal from the judge, the top fighter grasps the bottom fighter and tries to throw him off the Mat while the bottom fighter lies flat on his stomach and tries to squirm his way off the Mat in the dying second of the bout. If neither succeeds in their endeavour, it appears that the judges award the fight to the wrestler who has performed most stylishly during the contest? I have been given a free ticket as an Olympian, at the competition to Mentor a group of Young Volunteers who each have been given two tickets as a reward for their inspiring work during the last couple of years as part of the lead up to the Olympic Games. The problem is that I am not told how many Young Voluteers I am supposed to mentor. In the packed 22,000 crowd, I am supposed to identify them and have a chat. ‘Another whoojiwhatsit on Mat Two’ screams the commentator. The Young Volunteers are scattered randomly amongst the crowd. I am not told where they are seated nor am I told their age, whether they are boys or girls. I don’t know what they have done to deserve the reward of a couple of tickets for the Olympic Wrestling. ‘Hottiebaltie has just scored a duplex’. They don’t know it’s me they are meeting! Other Olympians doing Mentoring at other venues have had exactly the same experience! I am told the Young Volunteers have been advised to wear their Young Volunteer t-shirts so they can be identified easily by me; a dark blue Adidas t-shirt like that no one else in the jam packed crowd of 26,000 will wear an Adidas t-shirt. So I approach every young girl in an Adidas t-shirt and start to chat. Always assuming I manage to prise myself out of my seat in the half dark without sending the rest of the row tumbling onto the Mats. Oh yes Paedo. Yes m’lud, this white haired old bloke was going round the 28,000 crowd pestering young girls. Fanfares blare as another bout ends while further bricks are hurled onto one of the mats, and on another mat a huge Russian is fanned with a towel by two officials in the one minute between bouts. As the 30,000 all leave at the same time at the end of the contest. I spot Tani Grey Thompson in the concourse amongst the throng and am tempted to ask if she has also been there as a Olympian Mentor and enquire what chat up lines she had used. At least, the Young Volunteers would have been able to spot her.

Timeline Wednesday:- I try to find three needles in a haystack.

Timeline Thursday:- I plead not guilty to the charge of harassment of young children.

Timeline Friday:- It is surprising how quickly one begins to enjoy dry bread and porridge.

                                                  Colin  

2012 Olympic Recollections 1

Missed me Blog???????

          Did you get my Olympic postcards???????????????? Yes I have been down in London for about ten days. I have just got back so I will get round to giving you my thoughts in the next day or two ………… So what struck me most, you ask. I’ll tell you what struck me most Blog. As you know I have a passing interest in marathon running, so its thank you to our top three marathon selected runners. You three not only did a great job on the day, but you have managed to make it nigh on bloody impossible to get anyone selected for the forthcoming Games. THANKS. A great big ta to you and to you and to you!!!! One did not manage to toe the line, one made it to 10 kilometres and the other struggled to the finish line … EVENTUALLY. It was hard enough before these Games to get runners onto the team following many barren years. But the ‘late call up’ and the ‘also ran’ did us proud. Well done to you two. But that does not detract from our big three. Now Blog … do you like a flutter???? Bet you a few quids that three certain individual marathon runners will be toeing the line for a big city quids marathon coming to a country near you soon. Never mind the medal, feel the quids.

As an afterthought, perhaps the selectors would like to start at say 1970, and look at the selected runners in the marathon race. How many have been selected on reputation with no marathon background except for the ONE result in the trial. Start with Taylor in the Commonwealths and go through Ford and Black at the Moscow Olympics, even Sercombe …… good athletes but what marathon experience did they have except for the one off????????????????????

Does history teach the selectors nothing??????????????? Obviously not.

And the next bit of entertainment will be to see the great departure of high positioned officials from senior posts. Look in the press, mark them off. Mr Moneyham is off, Mr JohnHead of England Athletics … they can see what is over the horizon ………….

And why …. Because the next bit of entertainment following the next bit of entertainment will be the cut in funding dressed up as legacy investment for the future. The spin doctors will wrap up the cuts as proof positive funding for the future. Do you believe me Blog or do you believe me Blog?

                                               Colin

Marathon training in six easy steps!

 So here it is Blog, well at least one of six is! I wrote you last week about the preparation phase for a marathon and the ins outs and the ups and downs and roundabouts therein.

At the Pink Panther University, a friend who was reading phycology happened to mention one evening, some work that had been done some quarter of a century earlier on stress adaptation by Hans Selye. Sounded interesting and as I was planning to run my first marathon I thought the ideas that Selye propounded were worth considering, after all, marathon running is just simply getting your body used to stress for a couple of hours. So, as they say. That was it. HOOKED. All my training henceforth and for ever more was based on the Selys analysis.

So all training was switched to stress conditioning which incorporated no easy / rest type sessions. Recovery came as a consequence of being knackered and the body was slowed and forced into a recovery phase because it had no option.

So take 1:à with a prize for you Blog if you guess which of the Godiva posed for the artist to sketch the runner. The clue is in the hair!! Not the athlete is starting nice and easy, not going mad.

Marathon six months away … this twelve weeks into lark that is the modern way of thinking does give not allow leeway to stresses and strains and niggerly injuries!! Not what all the books say Blog?? Or all those magazines?? Or all those coaches with the arms weighted down with badges?? Oh well, you pays your quids and you takes your chance. Do not pass Go.

Giving specific programmes is really farcical if you think about it. 10 times 400 in 67 with 45 sec 200 recovery etc.. Cobblers. What if you feel rough? What do you do? What happened if a gale is blowing and it is stair rodding rain? Training should be given generally; the individual can sort out the specifics … more satisfying that way. More fun. ……So, plenty of junk miles, get the old body used to going the distance … the marathon should not be offering a question mark as to whether the distance can be covered. The marathon should be a race against the opposition, not against 26 miles (42 kilometres to you Blog). And of course, with high junk mileage, the danger is a repetitive strain injury. So a bit of fartlek, a session of reps and a regime of exercise is all part of the none specific introduction to the first phase of the six to be outlined at no cost to you Blog. To race or not to race, that is the question at this time of preparation. The thing to remember is that the aim is a marathon, nothing else. Nothing. NOTHING. So if you fancy a race, race. No matter what the distance. No matter what the surface. The race is for battery charging. But don’t be too stupid. To gain some benefit, give your body a chance to perform. Don’t race totally knackered because you are not racing and you are gaining no benefit. So instead of battery charging you are digging a hole, a hole in the ground which is big and sort of round, into which to plummet. So the change becomes self-defeating, mentally and physically!!

Don’t forget to sling a few weights around and a daily routine of a few exercises won’t’ come amiss, though stretching per sec is a bit of a waste of time if you ask me, Blog. Remember basics, like avoiding as much road pounding as possible, park grass is better. And use common sense, if you run in the park, run on the grass not on the paths!!! Look at all those burks running on the paths in the park. Pathetic. Enjoy a few cross country runs when you are knackered.

So two of six will be a little more detailed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                          Colin

PS Next Tuesday guess what I will be doing, Blog. There is no way Blog that you will come remotely close to having a correct guess. Not a chance. Not a sniff. Try the lottery; you will have more chance of success. Never done the lottery myself, I don’t like the odds.

Poetic justice?

Blog,

      It is a relief to see that there is no racialism in sport; illustrated by the fact that a white footballer has recently been in court and found not guilty of the charges relating to racist comments. Presumably the black footballer who now faces charges will also be found not guilty?

In athletics we have seen that the press treat white and non-whites with the same courtesy. Just imagine if white pretty female had been banned for a doping offence, served her ban and then qualified for the Olympics. The press and media would not keep referring to the ban every time she raced, I am sure. And because she was pretty, the press would not in any way be biased towards female comments. After all, the press and media are unbiased in their reporting. But she was barred from running in some high profile races in Europe because she had been naughty and the authorities thought that she should not run in the Olympics but they were over ruled by a higher authority about which they were not at all happy. Now supposing a big black guy was opposed to drug cheats and said so at every possible occasion and wore a red ribbon on his running vest to denote his disapproval of drug taking. To show that drug taking was not necessary and naughty, he lived at altitude and slept in a simulation tent because that was all fair and square and he could afford to do that because he often chose to run in races that earned him mega quids. And to make a few more quids he let his young child be used in adverts. And the authorities bent over backwards, forwards, sideways and frontwards so he could run in the Olympics and sod to the other males who had run in trials rather than taking an easy option to get a good time when it was convenient to him. Clearly the press would not favour their comments towards him more than they would to the pretty white women who had served a ban for drug cheating. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the big black bloke who wore the red ribbon and who could afford to live at altitude because that was not cheating did not make the Olympics but the pretty white women who had served a ban for taking drugs did go to the Olympics. Rough justice? Poetic justice? Just imagine if colours were mixed up? Colours were juxtaposed? Colours transposed. Wouldn’t matter, because there is no racialism in sport. The press and the media treat everyone equally.

                                                      Colin