The Colworth Challange results (part 1) June 21 - 23, 2013

Dear Blog,

                Back from my Tour, the Colworth Challenge. The Challenge consists of three races in three days to cover a full marathon distance. Each race is off road, the distances being, 5 miles on Friday night, 8 miles on Saturday lunchtime and a half marathon (13 miles) on Sunday morning. I’ll say that again for you Blog; Each race is off road, the distances being, 8 kilometres on Friday night, 13 kilometres on Saturday lunchtime and a half marathon (21 kilometres) on Sunday morning. I’ll say that again for you Blog. I have to go to my grandson’s sports day now Blog, so I will fill you in tonight about how the events unfolded.

But before I finish don’t you think that that is fantastic, the distances I mean. 5, 8, and thirteen miles. 5, 8, 13 don’t you get it Blog??? Fibonacci!!!! Fibonacci’s sequence as in the series => 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, etc. FANTASTIC. What a mathematical weekend I had!!! I feel all in a whirl, in a right spiral.

But before I finish don’t you think that that is fantastic, the distances I mean. 8, 13, and twenty one kilometres. 8, 13 and 21, don’t you get it Blog??? Fibonacci!!!! Fibonacci’s sequence as in the series => 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, etc FANTASTIC. What a mathematical weekend I had!!! I feel all in a whirl, in a right spiral.

            More tonight.

                            Colin

Ron Clarke Australian World Record Holder

Photograph Quiz.

Photo no. 152: … but they had thin laces and a rubber toe cap, read on Blog.

Dear Blog,

Some considerable time ago I wrote to you about ‘Tours’. Well, there have already been a couple this year so far and at the weekend I will be attending one …. More next week.

    10:30 am. Yesterday. I was chatting in the boiling sun to a fellow trudger yesterday, at the bottom of my Estate driveway, about Tours in general and how slow we both were shuffling about, to and fro in the countryside. He said that it was because we were getting old. I said to him that he should confine his observation to himself and not include others in such remarks, going around upsetting people. Because it was so hot, he was not wearing a top, such was the heat from the sun. He was having a shuffle trudge break form the glare of the sun and using me as his excuse for stopping for a chat with me and I was having grass strimming break from the glare of the sun and I was using him as my excuse for stopping for a chat with him. A gigantic low loader, occupying the whole width of the road chugged slowly up the Lane and stopped us talking mid chat. I do mean the whole width of the highway with a capital ‘WW’; and I do mean mega gigantic. And what was he carrying you ask Blog. Now I am really glad you asked me that question Blog, as I was dieing to tell you the answer. The low loader was carrying a Westlands helicopter. Blog, I kid you not. A Helicopter!!! I was agog, Blog. A Westlands Helicopter with full RAF markings, on the back of this low loader. Blog, I kid you not. He slowed to a crawl to try to negotiate the bend in the Lane, taking out all the low over hanging tree branches and widening the width of the road as it went.

      I’ll tell you what blog, it was never like this before that nice Mr Cameroon made all those defence spending cut backs. Oh no indeed. Back then the helicopters used to fly in the sky to where ever they were going; now they travel on the back of low loaders to save a few quids on petrol. What is the country coming to? And coming down my narrow country Lane, for goodness sake. How come??? I can only assume the driver was using his satnav and he forgot to tell it that he was a big, big, big lorry giving a helicopter a piggy back ride and not a mini car!! I wished I had had a camera to send you a photograph of it Blog. But I didn’t have one so I couldn’t. I shall go for a trudge up the lane later today to see if the low loader with the helicopter on board is wedged fast on one of the tight bends a little further up the lane than my Estate.

   While we (the two trudgers) were chatting in the unusually hot broiling sun, I was reminded of the time when we all used to train in the sun, not stripped out like my fellow chatee, but still wearing extra clothing to make us sweat and to acclimatise to running a marathon; a marathon in those days, the Trials for a major championships included, were always run in the warm summer months, no matter what the temperature. It was only the popularity of distance running in the running boom years that forced the athletic authorities in this country to change their attitude to avoid the joggers dieing of heat exhaustion in their thousands; marathons were scheduled for the cooler months.

    So we trained in extra gear. The World Record holder for 10k (six and a quarter miles Colin) Ron Clarke used to train hard at noon in the summer months in Australia in tracksuit. This never made any sort of sense to me as the temperatures were up in the 40⁰c range. It was only when I went out to Australia that the statement about Clarke made sense. He said that he had not been quoted fully as he had added that these sessions took place in the tree shade of the Dandenong Hills near Melbourne. And from experience of training in January in the scorching Australian sun, that does make sense. Under the tree canopy it is quite pleasant.

     Ron Clarke took up a senior position with Dunlop shortly after I had been out in Australia and speculation on the grape vine was rife that Dunlop were about to enter the Sports shoe market with a range of running shoes. A grape vine Blog? That’s a Blog before a Blog, Blog. Now the word ‘Dunlop’ linked with ‘sports shoe’ to someone my age, Blog, meant black canvas pumps; black plimsolls. The rumour persisted for some time but sure enough, the Dunlop racing and training shoes appeared on the market! And they were good I have to admit. I was sent a couple of pairs of both and the racers were similar to those produced by Ron Hill. Both were excellent. Forster won the London Marathon in a pair!!! But they were before their time. The inertia of the market place could not be overcome as most athletes were still flattered by the publicity generated by the established brands. After a year or so, Dunlop threw in the towel and withdrew from the shoe market completely (? Except for their black pumps?).

      I must get a pair of black plimsolls for the National Heritage Weekend’s exhibition of “The History of Coventry Godiva Harriers and Other Clubs in the City of Coventry” coming to clubhouse near you soon.

                                                                        Colin

Sudbury Hall

Photograph Quiz.

Photo no 151:- Why was eleven times world record holder Alf Shrubb in Coventry in 1959. Who did he stay with in Coventry for a couple of days before he returned to his adopted home in Canada?

Dear Blog,

               It is my granddaughter’s birthday today and as a treat she wanted to visit a stately home! I said she could come to visit me but she said she preferred something bigger in the National Trust stakes. I said to her that I wanted my present back as I found that comment deeply upsetting but she said she had hidden it so there!! We spent the day at Sudbury Hall. Why there? Well I am not into this ancestor business but having gone round the stately pile the family visited the local church which was on the estate built about a hundred yards (90 metres Blog) from the Hall. In the graveyard with a rather impressive stone was the grave of my maternal great granddad!!! He lead the funeral cortege of the 6^th Duke, or Earl or whoever. I always felt I was superior to the pheasantry I come into contact with every day; confirmed my suspicions. I shall expect the yokels from the village to greet me with a ‘Sir’ when they speak to me in future, a touch of the fetlocks would not come amiss.

   Now my daughter, who is into this ancestor business, tells me that my great grand poppy left a few quids when he tied up his running shoes for the last time. So I said to her as we paid our respects at the graveside, ‘Why are you standing around here wasting time. Find out where my quids have gone. And why aren’t I drawing my daily allowance for the House of Lords. With a few of those quids, I could pay someone to do this daily trudging lark for me. Get a move on girl. Sort it.’

   She said she would see what she could do.

                          Colin

P.S. I am not kidding you Blog, but if you want a day out go to visit Sudbury Hall. Excellent for all the family. Free car parking, free entry to the extensive grounds with plenty for the kids to do including a workshop about the wild life (free). And the ‘Childhood Museum’ is brilliant … never mind the kids, the older you are Blog, the better to reminisce!!!

Sphinx A.C. Midsummer 5 mile road race results, 12th June 2013

Dear Blog,

      Why do kids lose interest in athletics before they reach senior competition is a question that is continually asked. Constantly.

Late afternoon yesterday I was down the track for an inter schools competition, one of the fixtures on the  calendar which allows a team of only eight pupils per school to participate … like the similar senior athletic club event, it is supposed to be short and sharp and avoid the prolonged programmes of competition which stretches into a whole afternoon and beyond into next week. It was bucketing down with rain, the kids were cold and miserable stripped out standing around in the open waiting for their jump or throw or whatever and the understandably, the staff were brassed off too. Having finished their event it was a wet wait in the rain for the rest of the team to complete their events and then it was a wet wait in the rain for the coach arrive to take them back to school, still soaking wet to wait in the rain to be picked up by their parents. So that is the best part of fifty kids who will be giving athletics a miss in the future. The weekend before last, kids were being ‘persuaded’ to take part in events ‘to get points for the club’. So many of those young athletes will be dead keen to train hard for future success in these newly found events to improve their newly acquired skills, I don’t think. And with only two per event, what happened to all the other youngsters who train in the same group and missed out on selection … they will redouble their efforts to get picked in the future, I don’t think.

And in the evening, I went straight from the track to the War Memorial Park in Coventry for the Sphinx A.C. Midsummer ‘5’ road race around the paths of the park which was preceded by a kids Fun Run of 2 kilometres (one and a half miles Colin). It was still bucketing down with rain for the kids race. BUT. The whistle went, they took off their tops went the start line, off they went on their two laps to finish with a bag of sweets each and a nicely colour printed certificate with their results posted up within a few minutes of finishing. Back into their tops, a quick drink and whisked into the car home for a shower. Question Blog????? Which of the above group of kids will be more interested in repeating their sporting experiences of today???

The ‘Fun Run’ was ‘over distance’ according to the moaners and the ‘5’ mile was ‘under distance’ according to the moaners which just goes to show that you can’t please any of the people any of the time nor most of the people sometime soon.

There was a limit of 300 places on entries by the organising club for the ‘5’ and when that limit was reached, the queue of waiting hopefuls were told to piss off. The late entries numbered only about half a dozen; as a former race organiser, it is doubtful whether I would have done that. I know the insurance was for a field of 300 but at any road race event there is a no-show of about 15% especially when the weather was lousy, like what it were last night Jimlad, so the spirit of the insurance policy would have been fulfilled. Especially frustrating for the ones turned away was the fact that they were club runners who support local races come what may, not any of your giveusthegoodybag brigade. Like two other local road races in the past couple of weeks, it is the club backboners of the sport who have suffered. Like the kids, each runner was rewarded with a medal, a drink, a pat on the head and everyone went home wet but happy.

Now that is interesting Blog. We are now in a phase of development of the sport where the worries about controlling the sport by the authorities have given way to the grass root pressure of non-compliance. Rules are handed down from on high … you are not allowed to swap numbers, so we swap numbers and its up yours Blog …. We are not allowed to wear ear pieces, so we wear ear pieces and its up yours Blog. And what do our sport’s governing body do? You tell me Blog!

It reflects the situation the Victorian upper classes faced in the late 19^th century when the working classes had some small disposable income for the first time … the worry was how to fulfil the plebs time with meaningful activity and control them. But the plebs won. Similar worries occupied the Edwardian ruling classes about the effects of the emancipation of women.  But the women won. So our sport changes forever and the  something-for-not-much-without-too much-effort Joe Jogger wins. What the sport needs is someone like that nice Mr Cameroon’s friend, a sort of sporty Michael Gove; the coaches would be sitting paper exams with no practicals, the joggers would be doing interval sessions on the track and the trudgers would have to complete a daily routine of circuit training, only the first three in a race would get a medal to improve the rigour of the sport and funding would be cut and club membership fees doubled. He would sweep away all this present day easy going participation lark; he would soon get the sport back to the standards of the 19^th century where competition was the name of the game.

Vote for Gove

Midland Track League, Coventry June 9th 2013 results

Dear Blog,

     Do you like my latest garden installation? It is my touching tribute to Ballcock and Brown, those two innovative avators who were the first to fly by aeroplane across the English Channel. I have installed in on the washing line temporarily to instil into it the feeling of freedom caused by free flight, a sort of Ryan Air experience without Ryan.

    On Sunday, I helped out in the pleasant weather at the Midland Senior Track League at the Coventry Track at the University of Wawick although the sun was in out all afternoon. Today, the gloom merchants on the radio (a picture less television Blog!) warned of unpleasant weather … by which they meant that it was going to rain. Question => why is it unpleasant if it is going to rain??? Obviously the forecaster has never washed her hair in rain water. If she had she would not make such fatuous comments, nor would she spend most of the money she obtains from the weather service on hair shampoo and hair conditioner and hiar this and heir that and here today and gone tomorrow. Did you know Blog, that some of the great swathes of houses in Coventry built between the wars still have the rain water tanks on the roofs (!!! That what the man says!!!) of their out houses and a few even still have three taps; besides the usual hot and cold water taps they have a third one which is connected to the rain water tank. Having just struggled back from my wet trudge and combed my fast disappearing locks, the effect caused by the rain is all too apparent; smooth and silky like a baby’s bottom. [In this day and age I suppose that THAT COMMENT is not P.C.? Better be careful or a P.C. will be calling.]

  While I was out I noticed that the grass verges were uncut, the weight of the rain forcing the long grass to lean over into the road way. In previous years we have had the council mowers down the lane at the bottom of the estate driveways, a couple of times already. This year, not a single blade I have I spotted severed anywhere in Coventry. A cost cutting exercise by not cutting grass, methinks Geeves? Perhaps the Council are repeating their money raising gimmick of the 1970s when council finances were also tight as they appear to be at present. What did they do, you ask Blog? I am glad you asked me that Blog. Well I will tell you again Blog …. They neither cut the grass verges nor did they cut the school playing fields or the grass on the pitches in the parks or any of the other grass in the parks of the city. They let it grow all summer … and grow it did!!! Then what did the council then do??? I am glad you asked me that Blog. Well I will tell you. They put the grass cutting out to tender and sold the hay to the highest bidder. So the farmers moved in and mowed the grass and the missing tennis balls and the odd child that had been lost in the long parkland grass. And they left the mown hay to dry. And the children moved in and played lots of new games invented especially for the use of mown hay. And the more adventurous older children discovered that dry mown grass burnt rather well!! And the doggie walkers found that the doggies loved to do what doggies do in mown hay and they doggie dodood. All in that newly mown drying hay. And the farmers returned to bale their hay which they had paid the council many quids for but found that the cattle did not like the charred remains nor did the cattle like the doggie dodood hay and the farmers were upset having paid the council lots of quids for the cattle feed which the cattle did not like to feed on and the farmers had to buy hay from elsewhere where it had not been either burnt or doggie popood. And when the footballers started to football a few weeks later they too were upset because they had bald pitches because the grass had not regrown since the farmers had baled the hay. And the council had to try to reseed the pitches for the up-coming season and the council had left it too late to reseed and a winter football season was spent playing mudball.

      And for us that liked to trudge, the summer was most difficult, because it was impossible to run around any of the parks in Coventry or to use any of the school playing fields because the grass had grown far too long. And what narrow paths had been worn down by the doggie walkers walking their doggies were occupied by doggie walkers walking their doggies and the grass at the path sides was too long for the trudgers to trudge passed.

    And the council’s brilliant idea of getting someone else to cut the grass and get them to pay the council for the privilege backfired and many quids had to be paid in compensation to disgruntled farmers and many quids had to be paid to try to make the pitches playable and no one was held responsible for this very clever idea.

    But the interesting question now arises …. Is history about to repeat itself??? Does anyone from the council remember this fiasco from many years ago when my trudge was faster than a jog??? And will the council try it again or just let the grass on the verges rot? And when the verges have rotted, nature will creep onto the tarmac and start a process of deterioration which the frosts and snows of next winter will complete …. BUT. ALL IS NOT LOST. Thanks be to God, that the Coventry Half Marathon has been moved by the council to March because the Council can use the income generated from the entrance fees from the joggers in the Half Marathon to repair the roads in the interests of Health and Safety. Now Blog, is that clever with a capital ‘C’ or is that clever with a capital ‘C’??

                           Colin

Chick, chick, chicken.

The last view I saw before I fed the chickens.

Question Blog … Have you ever seen a chicken run? No I don’t mean one of those wooden buildings where the chickens lay their eggs. And I don’t mean ‘Chicken Run’ the animation film of the year 2000. I actually mean, literally, have you seen a chicken run, as in a chicken putting one leg in front of the other to cover as much ground as possible in the shortest possible time. A fast trudge if you like. Gotme? Good. Right. Well they do look funny in their ungainly gait but they can run quickly. Amazing quickly when food is the incentive!

  And so it came to pass a week ago yesterday, I was sat in my daughters camper van parked in the farmer’s field where we staying for the week with all other campers long since gone home after the Bank Holiday break. The adjacent field contained a couple of chicken runs (the wooden type!), some rare sheep breed and a few geese. The van’s side sliding door was wide open and I was admiring the Derbyshire Peaks while I munched on my lunchtime sandwiches. At peace with the world I was Blog. You’re actual contented camper! I was watching the chickens peck away contentedly about 100 yards away (90 metres to you Blog). I was thinking how slow my trudge is these days and wondered how to make the chickens run fast. Juxta thoughts? Now it must have been the power of this subliminal thought process because the chickens were soon in full flight except that they weren’t in full flight per sec, i.e. wings flapping flipping fast; they were running fast. And what caused this sudden spurt you ask Blog. I am glad you asked that question. As I said I was quietly munching on my sandwich which my dear wife of 42 years and two days had prepared for my luncheon when I suddenly felt sick. Very sick. Violently sick. I just a made it to the van door and I was violently sick with an impressive series of projection vomits. I managed to shoot out of the van, through the open doorway to the grass outside and there I performed. A performance of Oscar proportions. The speed of movement would have had Tyson and Usain green with envy. As green as the grass. As green as I was! The first projected sick vomit had barely hit the ground before the first chicken skidded to a halt at my feet, leading a phalanx of another dozen. Their speed over the ground was impressive, easily breaking evens, and not even waiting to catch their breath as they clucked into my sick. The sound of hens in paroxysms of pleasure as they frenziedly devoured my wife’s sandwiches; it was pleasure to see them enjoying their food; my food. As the next of my dear wife’s sandwiches arched into the air, their clucking reached a crescendo of clacking. Share and share alike I always say. They almost finished their surprise meal before I did. With the prospect of no immediate half-digested tit bits arriving soon, the consensus of opinion was to stick around in case there was more sick around a little later. Give the boy a break. Give him time to think. They decided that I was a good future bet for a meal out and wouldn’t leave my heels. I walked to the toilet block to clean myself up. The flock of hens followed. I walked back to the van. The hens followed. I went for a little walk around the field to clear my head. The chickens came along too. A bleeding Pied Piper I was without me pipe and no sign of any rat. Who needs a rat when you have yourown personal private flock of chucks? The cockerel came over to find out what my attraction was and I heard the chicks telling him that they had just been out for a meal; they told him it was a sickin in a basket. Or it sounded something like that.

   Having missed out on a free meal, this next morning as dawn broke, so did the cock outside the van. A series of very loud continuous cock a doodle doo which went on and on and on got me up before the sun was up! Obviously getting his own back for not having received a formal invitation to the free meal out the day before! Very peeved he seemed when I chased him. He was none too happy with the chopper I was carrying either.

                Colin

P.S. Spent the day in Sheffield library … ,more next time Blog.

Tips for a happy marriage.

Dear Blog,

    During the course of my sojourn in the Peak National Park last week, it was my wife’s 42^nd wedding anniversary. And it was no coincidence that it was my 42^nd wedding anniversary as well. They say that things come along in twos, don’t they? Well I thought I would treat her. We stayed about half a mile away from the small Derbyshire village of Edale where there is a single shop, a pub and a small hotel. She had been cooking all week, cooped up in the camper van, so I asked her as an anniversary treat if she would like to eat out for a change. You should have seen the look of sheer delight on her face. The smile shone through her wrinkles. Heart tugging to see, it was. I gave her a little peck on the cheek and said I was popping into the village to arrange the meal out. Luckily the village shop was still open so I was able to purchase a portable bar-b-q for £2 and a packet of sausages. She was so taken aback when I arrived back at the van with my anniversary gifts. I must say that it was a little chilly sat outside the van while the sausages sizzled away in the pan, but I promised a meal out, and being a man of my word, I stuck out the discomfort by wearing a couple of jumpers, my thick jacket, my scarf and long johns under my trousers. Eating the sausage sandwich with my gloves on was not easy. No one else on the site seemed to want to enjoy the fresh air.

  Next day, as we trudged through the village to climb up onto the Dark Peak plateau for our walk, we passed the village church where they were having a car boot sale to raise funds for the repair of the church roof. I suggested to my good wife of 42 years and one day that we pop in and have a look round. She had been dropping hints for some weeks that she would like something for the garden by way of a 42^nd wedding anniversary present. Now I am not an ungenerous man and had been giving a great deal of thought about what I could buy her; something which would last, something which would remind her of our time, our long time, our long, long time together. And there it was. On the second stall. The ideal present. THE anniversary present for my dear wife. I had to haggle with the stall holder for some time but eventually I got the price down to what I though was a reasonable price, not that I would have skimped. It was an anniversary present when all was said and done. He had wanted £1:50 but we finally settled on £1:00. A lawn mower. A hand push grass mower. I said to my wife that I would allow her to use some of my machine oil to lubricate the wheels as they appeared to be rather stiff and dragged when you tried to push the machine along. And I said I would show her how to use my metal file to sharpen the blades. As reassurance, I said that it should only take an hour or so to do all the rotary blades if she worked fairly hard at the task.

  Now Blog, did you spot my mistake in buying the mower for a bargain price of £1:00. Yes, well done. As I said, it was the start of our climb up onto the Dark Peak plateau for our walk. I think it is fair comment to say that she really did struggle on some of the steeper sections during our eleven miles trudge. If I had had the machine oil with me and could have lubricated the mower before we set off, it would have been a great deal easier for my wife. But then, I cannot anticipate everything. After a couple of miles over the heathland and heather, I did suggest to my dear wife that she might find it a little easier if she dragged the mower behind her rather than pushing it along. I think she whimpered a little note of thanks for the advice.

    To look on the bright side. Although I thought it unfortunate at the time of purchase, the mower didn’t have a grass box, but as I said to my dear wife, raking the grass clippings up every time she cut the lawn would be excellent exercise at her age. As we climbed up to Kinder Scout, I had a little joke with her to cheer her up; it was the day after our anniversary after all. I said that it was funny how things turn out some times, how a dark cloud can have a silver lining. I said that if the mower had had a grass box, she would have had to continually to stop to empty it as the cotton grass and heather was rather thick in places. She sort of whimpered. Just then it started to rain.

                     Colin

P.S. I have been thinking about what I said yesterday concerning the Coventry Half Marathon and the press release from the Council … if the council claim that it costs £50,000 to put the marathon on, and the income from the entrants, at say £25 a throw, this gives another £50,000 and raises the question => Does that mean that the council flash out £100,000 to promote the race or to do the sums a different way, does it cost Nowt with a capital ‘N’ to promote the race?? It would be interested to see some figures. Oh look up Blog, a flying pig.