A meal fit for a king .. Shoc King?

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no 132:- So where is this, what is the building called and which is my room?

Dear Blog,

           So it is nearly goodbye to the cross country season for another year with only the Inter Counties Championships (and for the youngsters, the English Schools Championships) remaining. What have we learned from this last six months, Blog? Have you raced too much or trudged too often rather concentrate on planned quality training. Certainly, when observing my younger club mates, methinks that there has been lots and lots of training with little racing, forfeiting team medals at National Championships because those with arms full of badges have a preference for filling in their little red training books instead of full filling a commitment to their athletes by letting them enjoy the sport and collect a few meaningful awards along the way. Roll on the ‘Mickey Mouse 10 kilometres’, the ‘You Must Be Joking 5km Park Run’ and the ‘Fleece the Athlete 5 miles’ (8 kilometres to you Blog).For participating in the ‘Cough Up a Few Quids Fun Run’, you receive a shiny medal on a piece of brightly coloured ribbon just like the other eight hundred participants receive, you might get your picture in the local newspaper (reporting that tens of thousands took part) and if you win, perhaps a prize of a few quids which will cover the cost of entering the next ‘Saw You Coming Half Marathon’. But the kudos? Can’t beat it. Only the winner can claim the race title, sought after by no one else in the area. But I have no badges so I will stop lecturing you Blog on all these aspects of road running when you know much more than I have forgotten.

          Arriving home from the snowy, very very muddy Sunderland, my wife treated me to one of her special dinner treats. She is so thoughtful. For meat she just had to cook a couple of horses hooves each, they being so popular at the moment, in supermarkets everywhere. Realising that I might use all my bullets in failing to kill a possible intruder in the shower with my AK-69 automatic, she supplied half a plate of peas to be used as back up to slay the possible robber. If the concrete peas proved ineffectual, the solidified potato wedges could be used in hand to hand combat, and there is nothing more deadly than one of her sharpened cooked carrots. Blog, I kid you not. Usually the crunchy gravy helps build up the strength of my gums, but left uncut with a knife, the platter of gravy can be quite deadly when used as a discus and thrown with accuracy. And for sweet, my wife served up custard. Just custard you ask Blog? Yes, just custard! My wife specialises in three different sorts of custard. Firstly there is her ordinary custard … no problem if you want to cut yourself a second or third slice. The second type is the stand alone custard, useful when the assembled guests wish to play after dinner party games. Spoons are stood upright in the custard, and the hardened Brussels sprouts are bowled along the table cloth towards the spoons, the winner being the person who manages to knock any spoon from the upright position; a leaning spoon counts as a half point. The game is like table top skittles except the spoons are much harder than skittles to knock over. Her third type of custard is called ‘King Arthur Yellow Custard’, a family favourite. This is always regarded as a family challenge, the winner always being rewarded with one of my wife’s mince pies. All other participants in the family receive two mince pies for their failure. And the aim of the ‘King Arthur Yellow Custard’ sweet, you ask Blog? I am glad you did; the declaration of the Family Champion is much sought after by relatives across the country. To be crowned for being the only person able to extract the spoon from the custard is fought for whenever two or more family members meet together. One of those stories that circulate as family myths claims that Great Uncle Charlie actually manage the feat on one occasion but there is no evidence to substantiate the achievement. Aunty Gerty, his wife, always said that it was one of their most bestest friends who extracted the spoon, Uri Gargarin or something like that name.  For wine my wife treated me to some of her last year’s rhubarb sparkling wine. She calls it sparkling as that is the state of the horse brasses after they have been cleaned.

      And so to bed.

                                  Colin    

Home again, home again, jiggerty jig

Photograph quiz:

Photo no. 131. This photo was taken from the top of the Durham Cathedral tower … place an ‘X’ where my room was.

300 miles plus (500 plus kilometres to you Blog) and back home from the very snowy, very, very muddy National Cross Country Championships in Sunderland last Saturday, again returning via God’s Own County. Sunday was dry enough to trudge along the banks of the river Wharfe at Bolton Abbey. It is rather sad that, like the moorland’s paths, to prevent further erosion, the river bank tracks are increasingly being covered with stone and grit. For trudging, the advantages of nature’s cushioning are therefore being negated, making pathway running almost as bad as running on the hard road surface. Sad! Earlier, it was nice to see that the track at Durham University’s Sports Centre is now an all-weather surface … not that you were able to run on it on Sunday morning as the all-weather surface was under a covering of snow. All weather?????? What’s that all about? All weather use as long as the weather is all right!!!! Whether to use the track? That’s fine then? When I was in my final year at the Pink Panther University, a 400m track (440 yards to you Colin) was built in the flood plain of and alongside to, the River Wear. So that was a bit clever don’t you think Blog? But also lots of university quids was spent on notices informing the competing athletes which event took where, just in case they were confused … after all, taking a degree at one of the country’s top universities didn’t guarantee that the long jumper would recognise a long jump pit, nor a sprinter would realise where the 100m (110yds to you Colin) might be. Large notices were erected at each and every event start and finish!!! Even notices which proclaimed “water jump”, “pole vault” and “discus circle” were placed in the in-field. Best of all was the notice on one side of the run up strip proclaiming “long jump”, while on the other side of the same run way a different notice proclaimed “triple jump” just in case anyone thought the sand was there for building sand castles. Each of these signs was about five feet (1500mm to you Blog) high and nearly as wide. And the signs got increasingly bigger the more the number of events to be recorded. And at the end of the finishing straight, a bill board was needed to inform the spectators what races ended there … not that they could see the track anyway!!!!!

       The athletics track which was built while I was in attendance at that seat of learning was far from all weather. Rumours circulated at the opening invitational meeting that the track material was coal waste from one of the nearby coal pits (it was an ash colour, Blog I kid you not!); in winter it was like a soggy pudding, so students were banned from using it because a runner left deep foot holes with every step when they tried to run around the track. In summer the students couldn’t use it because the coal dust set like concrete, making the use of training spikes an impossibility.

        Thank you for that information about the traffic cones Blog. Much appreciated. So the yellow ones are placed under or over electricity cables on motorways, the blue ones ditto for water, but you don’t know about the green cones???? Get a grip Blog, it can’t be that hard. Yes I knew already that the white cones were for ice cream, thank you very much.

                                       Colin

National Cross Country Championships at Sunderland results February 23rd 2013

Boy Blog,

             What a difference a day makes … as they say, ‘here today, gone tomorrow’! So what dear Blog, you ask, am I wittering on about? You may well ask… well I am glad you did. I am tin boxing again, this time for the National Cross Country Championships in Sunderland. After a journey up here from Coventry via a diversion to see my dear sister in God’s Own County, we went to sleep last night with the prospect of a chilly day to follow  and got up this morning to find a white all over fest. Two inches (5 centimetres to you Blog) of snow covering the camp site!!! Now, because there was no parking at the National Cross Country course site at Herrington Country Park or surrounds, I had planned to park up at the back on a local industrial estate and walk the 400 yards (400 metres to you Blog) to the course to save the hassle of the Park and Ride journey from the Stadium of Light in Sunderland to the course, but because of the fall of the white stuff, that plan went out of the window and Plan ‘C’ was adopted, i.e. the Park and Ride from the Stadium of Light to the course. Plan ‘B’ had been to catch a couple of local buses and be dropped at the course, but because of the fall of the white stuff during the night, standing around waiting for local transport did not appeal. So it was the tin box to Sunderland and away the lads!

I must say the whole day was most interesting.

1.     When I was at the Pink Panther University, my post graduate year was spent learning to be a sums teacher which involved a whole term, from January to Easter doing teaching practice at Sunderland Boys Grammar School. For the National Cross Country Championships, we travelled in the Tin Box to the Park and Ride mostly along the road I used to run to and from school. This was before the days of 140 miles a week (to you Blog, I haven’t a clue … get out your calculator and work it out yourself!!). The sign post said 13 miles (ditto Blog) from Durham to Sunderland .. so five days teaching practice stuck a few miles in the training diary which gave me the whole of the weekend for some serious mileage!!

2.    Oh yes, I should add that my dinner time session from school was to scoot up to the Penshaw Monument and back for an afternoon of sums to the little Wearside lads …   it is a bit scary actually Blog, because one of my pupils is now a well over 60s master!!!! And this said monument overlooked the National Cross Country Course to which I had come from Coventry via God’s Own County. So after I had watched my younger daughter complete her race in the senior ladies competition, I decided, for old times’ sake, to scoot up to the afore mentioned Penshaw Monument and take a picture of the start of the men’s race. It looks a long way from the course to the folly but the folly, in the style of the Parthenon, is much closer that would appear … so my daughter finishes and off I trudge, soon realising that too much kit was the order of the day. Up I climbed in the snow to the Monument. Out poured the sweat on my way up to the Monument. Arriving at the monument soaked in sweat fearing the onset of a serious heart stoppage problem, I turned to view the start of the men’s race expecting to take a dramatic shot as the field streamed along below me. I focussed my teleteletelephoto lens  … the men’s field  was already half a mile (800 metres to you Blog) into the event!!!! What happened to all this five minute warning gun business??? And the boom of the starting gun???? What boom???? So my climb was in vain!!!!!!!!!! A sweaty heart pumping vein!!!!!!!!! I feel I should add that when I went for my dinner time session to the folly, the view I had from the top was not the Herrington Country Park but all the paraphernalia of a coal mine, pit head winding gear, slag heap and all!!!

3.    At least I had the pleasure of meeting two old Godiva members who came over to the club tent to make themselves known. Excellent .. another few lines in my ‘History of Coventry Godiva and Other City Clubs’. I shall be contacting them for any photos and information etc.. Nice to see that their grandchildren were running, one of the lads finishing 7^th in his event. Brilliant!!!

4.    What a pleasant surprise … one of the club tents pitched very close to the Godiva tent was the Highgate Harriers’. And what was so special … I’ll tell you what was so special Blog. They had a loud sound system rigged up. Brilliant!!!! Music all afternoon … I thanked them and hoped that their tent would be near ours for the National Road Relays at Sutton Park in April. Bet the officials there will kick up a stink …. Watch this space in April Blog!!

                              An d so to bed in the tin box                    Colin

Wrexham Half Marathon results, February 17th 2013

So Blog, after spending some time under a tin roof you might want to ask me what I have learned from the experience. I am glad you asked that question Blog for I shall tell you. Firstly it is highly improbably that I will cut my head open on the roof of a tent. Secondly it is highly improbable that I will cut my head open twice by bumping into the soft canvas roof of a back packing tent and what is even more improbable, the chances of cutting my head open three times on the roof of a tent is as probable as that nice Mr Cameroon voting for a labour government at the next election. But as it is a secret ballot, we will never know, will we? So with a badly damaged skull and lots of blood, I feel that camping in a tent and not camper vanning is the way forward for me. It is that or the designers of camper vans need to take into consideration that the aged population of this country who enjoy the great outdoor experience do not always look where they are going or are fully aware of low cupboards suspended from ceilings in the confined space of a van. My bicycle went with me to watch the Wrexham Half Marathon at the weekend, and after the numerous head bumps, I took to wearing my cycling helmet indoors … but with the swelling from the three impacts, it proved a little tight on my head.

              In a tent it is easy to take to the sleeping bag at an early hour because stretched out along one side of a tent causes no trouble to anyone. Likewise if the previous night’s liquid refreshments prove a little difficult to contain in the many hours before dawn, it is only the sound of the zip which disturbs the whole camp site, falling liquid on grass being a fairly quiet impact. Not so in a campervan … any movement from a made up bunk requires the cooperation of all fellow residents, so an early night is completely out of the question. Agreed bedtime is the order of the evening. And if the previous night’s liquid refreshments prove a little difficult to contain in the many hours before dawn, it is noise of the others in the van complaining at being disturbed and the sound of the door of the van slamming shut which disturbs the whole camp site; in this situation the sound of falling liquid splashing onto concrete is surprisingly noisy in the dead of night. And the liquid splashing onto pyjama bottoms is not very pleasant; it takes ages to dry off when the return to the sleeping bag is made (to say nothing of damp ankles and wet toes). The sound of the door of the van crashing shut, again disturbs the whole camp site assuming they have been able to nod off to the soothing sound of running water and again it is the noise of the others in the van complaining at being disturbed by a returning resident which does absolutely nothing for the beauty sleep of other van campers.

           So what else … well the Wrexham Half Marathon was well organised by the local athletic club with none of the fuss and bother of the usual large field races organised by commercial interests. Not a chip in sight and still the results were available quickly. No road closure for 13 plus miles and no traffic problems, the junctions all being manned efficiently by the organising club members or the Air Training Corp. Very many photographs of all runners are available gratis … none of this big city gisthequidsforyourmugshot business. And instead of a silly little finisher’s medal dangling on a bit of coloured ribbon, all participants ended up with a loaf of malt bread. 11 out of 10 for Wrexham Athletic Club, says I. And my younger daughter ran O.K..

       And Blog, if you are ever up that way and want a trudge, or just a nice walk in the woods, try Nesscliffe Country Park … the sheer cliff size is most unexpected, and I do mean sheeeer Blog, with a capital ‘S’. And the pub in Nesscliffe village, The Three Pigeons, is not to be missed for a meal. None of your thawed frozen pre-packed rubbish there … proper food lad, proper food.

        The biggest disappointment though … on the way back down the motorway, it was a little upsetting to see that the two blokes I told you about in my last letter had done nothing to the cones on the southbound carriageway of the M6. They were noticeably muckier than those on the northbound side. Still they have plenty of time left to complete their task I suppose.

          And while I am on the subject of traffic cones, what is all this business of green cones all about? And what about the yellow ones too? Have I missed something or what??? Let me know Blog, please.

                         Colin

There was I, digging a hole, hole in the ground, so big and sort of round ....

Dearest Blog,

                   I am sure that you will agree with me Blog when I say that it is of paramount importance that runners cum joggers are protected at all times. It is praiseworthy, therefore that Coventry City Ciouncil and their agents have the best interests of competitors ay heart in their annual Half Marathon race each October. ‘Health and Safety’ regulations insist that the road surface for competitors in the Coventry Half Marathon is in reasonable condition so that the chances of mishaps to the joggers are minimised. So it was, if you check my letter to you Blog last October, the hat a couple of council’s jobsworth came round the local lanes with a spray can, marking in red paint all possible hazards. So it came to pass that at the bottom of the Estate driveway, a hole of diameter approximately one foot (30 centimetres to you Blog) was highlighted in red spray paint as a possible danger to the competitors in the Half Marathon race two weeks hence. But the rain it did rain and the hole of diameter one foot (still 30 centimetres to you Blog) now measures eighteen foot by three feet and six inches deep (at 2.4 centimetres to the inch, work it out yourself Blog!!). log I kid you not. And worse …. the drain has developed a hole alongside the grill and is growing daily.

      In an agreement I have exclusively negotiated with the betting company ‘Bet Teroff’, odds are being offered on the following::--

5 to 4 on that the council do not repair the hole before the next Coventry Half Marathon in October 2013

Evens:-  that there is a road traffic accident before the council repair said hole.

5 to 1:- that the hole is repaired with all the surplus horsemeat that is no longer needed.

10 to 1:- that the hole reaches the middle of the Lane before April 1^st.

50 to 1:- that the hole becomes a new Coventry City tourist attraction, second in importance only to the Cathedral.

100 to 1:- that a cow disappears down the hole and reappears as a horse.

500 to 1:- that the hole from the drain will meet the hole in the road before the council repair the hole in the road or the hole in the drain.

100000000000 to 1:- that the hole becomes designated an official scientific black hole. (minimum bet is one quid, condition and terms apply. Bets accepted subject to status)

    

                                    Colin

Guardian - What is the point of living?

Dear Blog,

                  I make no excuse to reproduce this article which appeared in the ‘Guardian’ newspaper last week written by a club mate ….

          “Celia Taylor training in Ethiopia Photograph: Celia Taylor

We talk of the 'runner's high' yet rarely of the 'runner's low'. For so many runners, the troughs seem deeper and wider than the peaks are high. We get ill or injured – so often when it matters most to us. But we keep going and rarely stop to think why. Do we believe that eventually we will reap what we have sown? From the regular 5.45am alarm calls, to coming back from a run so cold we can't get the key in the lock. Saying no to that slice of cake, and our tears on the massage couch - we put our lives into sowing. The act of sowing takes over our lives, making us ruin relationships or put careers or thoughts of motherhood on hold until we are satisfied with our harvest.

We all have our own definition of what makes this harvest satisfactory. Mine is to run 800m in under two minutes and to pull a Great Britain vest over my head, so you could say I have shot for the stars. You could also say that running 2.01.16 and earning an England vest has landed me on the moon. The journey has left me with some unique and wonderful experiences and more importantly, some incredible friendships. Perhaps to your mind I have succeeded, but in my mind I have – so far - failed. Having invested everything I have, and so much time, love and belief that others have so generously given me into getting to the stars, somehow the moon just isn't enough.

I know I need to get some perspective. I have let running round in circles take over my life. I sleep in an altitude tent and only ever argue with my husband about training. Back in August I decided that the UK Indoor Championships and European Trials this weekend could be my last race. I want to crawl off the track in Sheffield having given everything I have got, so if I still don't make it to the stars, I will have been beaten by others more deserving of the limited space up there. I have kept going because I believe I can reap a bumper crop; because once you've got to the moon it really isn't far to the stars.

I hope to meet you there.

Celia has represented England at both indoor and outdoor events. She combines her training with a full-time job as a lecturer in medical education at the University of Birmingham. See her athlete profile here.”

    Celia failed to make the final and has retired throwing her club vest and shoes in  the bin after her heat at the indoor event. Now isn’t that sad? One has to ask why she ran if it was such a chore. As someone who has run in the early hours of the morning before work for many years, I can sympathise with the inconvenience, but that’s life. Running is life, period. What is so wrong with that? There are so many advantages of letting running rule your life .. you go places and do things you would never enjoy if you didn’t run. You meet people and make life-long friends that you wouldn’t have if you didn’t run. No matter where you are, you immediately have an understandable repartee with other runners whether they are internationals or the humblest jogger. What other sport’s person would invite you to stay at their home within a couple of hours of meeting … and visa versa. I feel that my club-mate has missed out on understanding what the sport is really about. So Sad.

                                          Colin

Sad news

Dear Blog,

                 A quick note to you from me as I have just received some rather sad news which is so upsetting. Last summer I wrote to you from the Olympic Games Village after I, as an Olympian, had acted as a mentor for a group of children from an inner city London School. We attended a session of Geeko Romanov wrestling together. The gentleman reading the BBC bulletin on the 4pm news a few moments ago has announced that wrestling has been dropped as an Olympic event. I will be lefty with an indelible memory; never again will I be able to pop into the ring for a quick bout or a grapple. SAD.

                  First it was horsemeat and now this.

                                                    Colin

We are left to wonder what might have been?

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 131:- Although this photo was taken in 1957, what was so special in the world of athletics about the company who organised these particular sports? The same company ground was used when the historical event was staged? What was it? Where was it? What product did the company produce?

Dear Blog,

              The find of the body of King Richard 111 has interesting implications for athletics  and the athletes who have taken or have used performance enhancing drugs [or have not]. If you bluff someone and they fall for your set up, are you ever sure that they have actually fallen into your trap or is the intended victim clever enough to perform a double bluff on you. And how would you know whether they were duped or they are now trying to suck you into your own deception? And then do you go along with the double bluff pretending innocence … and so on and so forth … “…to spring a trap and not the trap to be sprung for sure is more than thou intended Lord.” Now with King Richard, a facial reconstruction has taken place, which must be a mega bluff surely? How are we to know how accurate such an assumption about his feature is? Will we ever know whether the image is a close resemblance? Of course we won’t… or will we?

              Now consider those who have taken performance enhancing drugs in athletics. From the 70s and 80s when drug testing was either non-existent, in its infancy or the participants were all complicit in deception, athletes of that era will never admit guilt for obvious reasons, not least because of their present standing within or without the sport. So they are left with the dilemma as to what effect chemical assistance played in their success or failure. They will never know. Similarly the testers are unable to gauge the effect of drugs on actual performance because how do you perform an acceptable double blind test on athletes within the acceptable parameters of high performance level within today’s rules on drugs? If groups of volunteers from a reasonably fit section of the population are used to gauge efficacy, it is not to say that the same conclusions would be draw from a very fit athlete. Some time ago I had a medical problem and had to go for a series of hospital tests to form a prognosis. When all the tests were completed, the conclusion was that no medical help might be offered as I fell into such a high percentile of the population that there was not enough information to offer a comparison! So it is with the drug takers. Where do known comparisons exist for performances posted? How can the observer say what would have happened if the athlete had not taken a particular drug or not stayed at altitude for a given length of time or not slept every night in a simulator tent? Like life, what if we had turned right instead of left at some juncture? And also we are left to speculate about what satisfaction the awards and accolades gained through deception have brought the miscreant. Does their gold medal sitting on the mantle shelf actually glitter with guilt? Or does it glitter with gilt?

                   Must stop as I am off to polish my medals.

                                           Colin  

Floods again again again.....

Dearest Blogsie,

                             Would I lie to you????? The Lane is under a foot (30 centimetres to you Blog) of water again, the orchard is submerged again, the vegeatable plot is under two feet (60 centimetres to you Blog) of water again and the snow is tumbling down again. This is the eighth time in ten months that the garden / Lane / driveway / estate has disappeared under flood water …. I think I told you that there was a consultation meeting in the local scout hut on Tuesday last, organised by the local council and the Environment Agency to discuss flooding issues. And guess what? I only found out about it 5 hours beforehand because I happened to be out in the Lane litter picking when a friend from further down the Lane went passed and stopped for a chat to ask if I was going to the meeting that night? Meeting, what meeting? The meeting about the flooding. The meeting following the questionnaire we were sent from the council. What questionnaire? The meeting detailed in last week’s circular from the council asking us to attend. What circular? I told you that I then asked all my neighbours in their mansions didn’t I Blog. NONE. Zero. Zilch. Not one had been told.

        My first question at the start of the meeting was to enquire why no one had been informed of the meeting????? Oh do you flood up there? We didn’t think that you flooded up the Lane. FLOODED???? We’ve been under water eight bloody times in the last ten months you pillock. Have you any photos to send us? Have I any bloody photos of the floods. Have I. I have thousands of the bloody things. My wife has now to sleep in the greenhouse because her side of the bedroom has disappeared under thousands of photographic images of muddy waters. Thousands with a capital ‘T’. I’ll need a bloody removal van to send them all. And worse of all, the greenhouse bloody floods so the missus is none too happy about that.

        So there is no sleep for me tonight, Bloggie Boy. I’ll be on flood watch. And in the morning I’ll have to wade through freezing cold turgid water before I can start my trudge. No joke Blog.

         The flood has partly been caused by the continual rain. I went out for a trudge in it this morning. It was cold, freezing rain. I had forgotten my cap, so my hair was soon soaking and I could feel I was starting with Jubbly Jabbers after just a couple of miles. The first signs. I was beginning to work out my escape route back to the changing rooms at the track. Once you start with the JJs there is no way back. Disorientation. Hallucination. The Midlanders don’t seem to recognise the name, never mind the symptoms! You remember Jubblies don’t you Blog? Jubbly with a capital ‘J’? Are you old enough Blog? It was the orange drink in the tetrahedral pack which the local grocer used to freeze and then charge an extra 3d on top of the normal price. No kidding. Freezing turned a large orange drink into a mega ice lolly which lasted for yonks … And the point is that after half an hour sucking the thing, the front lobes of the brain ceased to function correctly and in extreme cases, hospitalisation was necessary. Blog I kid you not. Serious stuff. In the end, the government issued an advisory note which suggested that freezing the orange drink was not best practice because of the inherent dangers to children. And Jubblies were no more. Anyways, my brain was going into the frozen JJ state with the very cold rain and the very low temperatures and the lack of a hat. I trudged along holding my head with both hands trying to get my head warm, making a bee line for the changing rooms before it was too lat

Midland Womens Cross Country League results Feb 9th 2013

Dear Blog,

                Today was the final Midland Women’s League staged at Cheltenham around the usual parkland course with the usual section alongside the tarmac path which borders the lake in acres of nice soft running surface which is never as interesting as tarmac which can ruin your spikes in the course of a single race and cause considerable injury which may possibly keep you out of running for most of the season and cost you an awful lot of quids in medical fees which may or may not get you back to running again sooner rather than later.

                  I have to confess that I am impressed with the organisers of the Women’s League …. For years I have to wait for ever to find out what were the final results of the race I had just witnessed. Today - No Way. Using a little technology, the presentation took place so quickly after the run that I was still sat in the café drinking my polystyrene mug of coffee and missed the whole thing. Blog, I kid you not. Missed it. In the past I have knit myself a woolly jumper and matching mittens while waiting. At other times I have done the weekly shopping in the town centre which takes me a couple of hours using my bus pass (to travel to the shop not to pay for the goods). Last year I was cautioned by the police for loitering while waiting in the car park for the medals to be awarded, it took so long. (The medals weren’t awarded in the car park, that was where I was sat when I was cautioned.) So well done to all concerned this year and welcome to the twentieth century; long may this new found speed resulting continue. Twentyfirst is looking good?????

                  While waiting to miss the presentation, I looked into the Cheltenham County Harriers Trophy Cabinet out of curiosity. The not very good photo is a shot of Unwin Trophy. I have checked but nothing on the Cheltenham County Harriers Club information mentions the Unwin Trophy. So in case the club might just be slightly interested, the Trophy was presented by Mr Unwin (I will check my history notes on ‘The History Of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Clubs in the City’ as to who he was and what his connection to the club was) in about 1900 / 1901. Up until the middle 1920s, the competition for the Unwin Challenge Trophy was one of the highlights of the Cross Country season. Usual held on the third Saturday in January, it attracted some of the best Midland Clubs and South Wales. (Men Only). Many local clubs (Godiva, Humber etc..) travelled together on the same train. Indeed, thereby hangs a tale told to me by one of the competitors …how Godiva used to brainwash members from other clubs travelling with them, into join Godiva. The gentleman who told me the tale was one who was gently coerced into switching to Godiva!!! One of the attractions for club members was the award of six silver medals for the winning team. The medals were rather attractive having a dark blue vitreous enamel decoration … I am sure I have one in my ‘The History Of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Clubs in the City’ but having just landed from Cheltenham and quickly written this letter to you to catch the evening post, I have not had time to search …. Something for you to look forward to, eh Blog?

                                              Colin   

A winner.

Well done Blog. You got a bargain there. I think the magazine must have been about the Bermuda Marathon looking at the other two runners. For a small donation to the charity for disable children, Tiny Tims Childrens Centre, I will sign it for you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

24 hours

ONE DAY

TWO DAYS LEFT Blog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Exciting or what Blog?

        I am still available at 99p. WHAT A BARGAIN. I am left to wonder about our friendship though. Have you not bid on me because you are waiting to make a last minute bid and get a super super bargain, or have you not bid because you are jealous of me being internetted when you never have been???? As I have told you before, I was also internetted about 18 months ago when a signed photo of me went within days of it being put up for sale. And Blog, surprise, surprise, it was NOT me who made the purchase. It was probably my dear wife but I have not said anything to her because I know she will be embarrassed about her undying devotion to me being exposed. I do suspect that she will be preparing a bid for the magazine so get your act together Blog if you want to be successful with your internetting.

        I have to confess that I went over the top when I said to you in my last letter that I still had 4136 copies to sell. Of course you must have realised that I was getting carried away with the excitement of seeing myself internetted. I am sincerely sorry for misleading you. Silly of me expecting to get away with such an exaggerated statement. I completely forgot the internetty one so the total still for sale is 4135 and not as stated!!!! Sorry Blog, a genuine mistake. Would I lie to you?

                              Colin            

Priceless

Come on Blog .... it's got to be worth it's weight in gold????????????????????? When did you last offer your body for sale?????????????? Get in quick, I am pretty cheap at the moment?????????????? Where did I get those shorts?????????????
P.S. Only another 4,136 to sell.

Midland Masters Cross Country Championships 2013 reults?

Ha ha ha Blog, very funny.

So it wasn’t the Midland Masters Cross Country Relays this morning. Someone was pulling my leg! It was a straight race, well not straight, but you know what I mean Blog; it was the Midland Masters Cross Country Championships. I think the Godiva Masters lady’s team came second. Or should that read the Godiva Lady’s Master’s team came second? You know what I mean Blog. But it was more of a closed club event (which it was) rather than the expected open competition of many runners taking part. It was a bit naughty of the Midland Masters to move in at short notice and pinch the established date of the monthly Centurion 5 mile race date just because the snow caused the cancellation of the Masters event two weeks ago. What seems strange to me is that one of the prime movers for choosing the amended date was a long time Centurion member. Where was club loyalty?? A couple of thing you do not do in athletics, or at least, didn’t used to do, was to drop your own club in the brown and smelly. Another was to promote your event on the traditional date of another event organised in the interests of a local club by a local club. All these commercially promoted events, Coventry Half Marathon etc., have no manners or consideration and have run roughshod across long established local races promoted by athletic clubs; local races promoted for local people to raise funds for the local club to interest local kids in athletics. For the commercial ventures to be rude and disruptive is bad enough, but if clubs start doing it to each other, what chance is there for athletic clubs in the future. We will all be in the gym on a treadmill at the local Hotel with our personal trainer in attendance.

              A mini trudge by me in the freezing cold this morning whilst my granddaughter ran in the Centurion two kilometre (one and a half miles to you Colin) Fun Run. As her mum was competing in the afore mentioned Midland Masters Cross Country Championships [not relay … pull the other relay leg], her aunty, my other daughter, ran around with her as my granddaughter deemed me not fit enough to have the honour of trudging with her as she had not witness me running sub eight minutes on the track for two kilometres (one and a half miles to you Colin) and neither had I produced a certificate signed by a qualified timekeeper to that effect. Aunty ran home when the Fun Run duty was completed.

               Me, misunderstanding the relay for the championship, reminds me of the time some few years ago when one of my daughters was at Infants School; it was considered important for reasons I will not go into just now, that she have an English assessment done by an educational psychologist from the local authority. This gentleman was from north of the border with a broad Scottish accent. Now Blog, I kid you not. His first instruction to my child was to spell the word ‘whoose’, which she was unable to do to his satisfaction. So he followed up the single word and asked her to write down the sentence he dictated to her. ‘Noothen, write doon, the wee moose lived in the wee whoose’. Blog I kid you not. Question => Did I sit there Blog and say noowt?

               Talking of misinterpretation … as you know Blog, I spend some little time researching ‘The History of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Athletic Clubs in the City.’ In the last three weeks I have had four different enquiries from members of the public asking for information about relatives who used to compete for Godiva. Many relations seeking information about an 'athletic' family member do not realise that there were several clubs in Coventry, not just Godiva. Many make the mistake of accepting family stories as completely accurate, not giving any credence to the passage of time where facts tend to change. Rose tinted spectacles are a big seller amongst family researchers. But the worse problem I face is that family stories which were accurate in the first instance but have since been given a modern interpretation by relatives who have no connection with, or understanding of, the sport; and of course, this then gives a totally distorted view .....  A true story Blog, I kid you not. If you do not believe me, look up the appropriate articles in the local archives. ….'the runners ran in multi coloured jerseys' [a simple Victorian accurate comment] became 'the runners ran in woolly, coloured striped jumpers to keep warm in the wintery conditions'. This is a quote from 'Historian' who wrote a weekly history column for the Midland Daily Telegraph!!!!

                              Colin

Eddie the Eagle

Well now Blog,

         After the usual Saturday evening swimming session with my granddaughter and grandson, the former had a sleep over with us because tomorrow she wants to do the Centurion Running Club monthly Fun Run over 2 kilometres. Her mum can’t take her as mummy is taking part in the Midland Counties Masters cross Country Relays at the same time but at a different venue. Being a devoted grandfather I was volunteered to watch the television set with her. I have to confess Blog that I was not aware that there was so much rubbish on the television on a Saturday evening. I really must pencil in another Saturday when I am free to watch a similar riveting evening of entertainment. Bugger, what did I do with my pencil??? Anyway, one of the programmes had ‘Eddie the Eagle’ on and we were told on more than one occasion that he was tough. Very tough, with a capital ‘T’. At this point I had to explain to my granddaughter that I once volunteered to take part to help a tandem ride from John O’Groats to Land’s End for a children’s charity for disable children. Eddie the Eagle was the star of the ride. We rode from town to town, stopping off at each Renault garage (the overall sponsor) for refreshments and to collect donations which each garage had collected, with the usual photo shoots with local high profile sportsmen; the charity utilising well known sports people as part of their fund raising commitments. Anyway, we gets down to Devon with ‘Eddie the Eagle’ being ‘tough’. One afternoon was a particularly hard hilly section. Really hilly with a mega hill included. Eddie was on the front of the tandem and I was on the back and we were really, really pushing it, no holds asked for and none given   …… until nearing the summit of this mega hill, Eddie actually asked if we might throttle back a bit!!! GOT HIM!

No way mate. My legs might have been about two miles behind my body. My lungs might have been on another planet. My guts might have been hanging over my handlebars. BUT NO WAY MATE! Suffer you bastard. Suffer. SUFFER BIG TIME tough boy. Mind you, it was then over the top and down a mega downhill. Boy was I scared. Overtaking cars! I felt as if I was about to find out if there really was a God, with a capital ‘G’. It did flick across my mind that Eddie was quite prepared to sacrifice us both just to prove a point. The point being a touch of revenge, maybe????

This reminds me of another sporting occasion … a marathon. I had dragged another runner well clear of the field and neither of us was willing to give an inch. My legs might have been about two miles behind my body. My lungs might have been on another planet. My guts might have been hanging over my jock strap. At 25 miles the other runner suggested that we might run in together. No way mate. Suffer you bastard. Suffer. SUFFER BIG TIME little boy. I cleared off and won with ease ….

Must finish now Blog, to catch the last post with this letter and then to get my head down … if I am trudging with my granddaughter tomorrow, I need a few ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzs

                                                   Colin

P.S. Watch this space for the result of the Fun Run tomorrow.