Brussels sprouts

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Aliveandrunning June 3rd 2014 Juneathon Day 3

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I devised a competition “See how long you can tolerate fecund nature obstructing your front door before you can’t get in and have to cut back”.  Strangely, I was the only entrant. With much regret I have to inform blog readers that Lorna brushed aside the hanging rose, dislodged a sleepy bee which flew behind her specs and necessitated  her flinging them off. Neither Lorna or the bee were hurt and the specs were undamaged. I later spoke to the bee and apologised for Lorna’s reckless knocking of the rose to one side but agreed with the bee’s comment that perhaps it was time to suspend the competition on the grounds of health and safety. I duly did this and declared myself the winner.

The weather in Cambridge was cloudy, with some sunshine, and warm today. Of course, just as I set out to go running with the club, it started to rain and continued intermittently until we  finished. Nevertheless, it was enjoyable because it remained warm. We did various fartleks on pavements, paths and fields (no sniggering, please, non-runners) and covered around 6 miles+.

On my return home I ate my evening meal which included brussels sprouts. On this occasion they were frozen and then micro waved. I don’t understand why brussels are usually pretty awful when they have been frozen. Since I am an optimistic chap, I assume they will be delicious but sadly this is seldom the case. Roll on the British brussels season. I can hardly wait.

 

  

Aliveandrunning May 5 2014

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I thought this Fen Drayton 10k was an ideal opportunity to practice my range of facial expressions.The first pic demonstrates aghast puzzlement with the physicality of prolonged exercise. Of course this still picture is unable to capture me muttering to the Greek gods, vainly pleading with them to send a favourable wind to waft me quickly to the finish line. The second image is a study in the desolate melancholy and gnawing loneliness of the long distance runner pounding the drear, mist shrouded moors, in the depths of winter, a score of miles from shelter and a warm fire. Or perhaps this is my best grumpy face. I can’t quite remember at the moment.

This was the weekend I did four races. On Saturday I ran parkrun at Cambridge (5k) and came in only 14 seconds outside of my personal best. Forsaking social intercourse, I jumped into my car and sped off immediately (I had left the engine running to save precious seconds) to an adjacent village to do another race of 4.5 miles. Yesterday I did the above 10k and today the Histon and Impington 5k. Unusually, I was pleased with all my times. I’m working on running faster but this also accompanied by a running style which seems to worry people. As soon as I passed the line yesterday, a funnel marshal asked if I needed to sit down and another one said they would get me some water. My reply? If I need to recline, it will be on the top of Mount Olympus to the first question and I’ll accept ambrosia but nothing else to the second question.

At the 5k today, I did feel more tired than usual but did OK. Unfortunately, Lorna confirmed my running gait was less than attractive and a  faster club runner pal asked if I had injured my foot during the race. He thought I was partially collapsed on the finish line. Errrr….no! I was simply making a supreme effort to outrun several chums behind me. But I do admit I’m not a pretty sight at the end of a race. I don’t seem to be able to run with my mouth shut or compose my face into an expression of serenity, even for a few seconds, when I see someone I know with a camera.

Anyway, I’m out with the club road running tomorrow evening and there’s a club run 5k on Thursday. I’ve just registered for a local new half marathon (Flaming June) on June 1st. I’ve got out of the way of longer training runs and will need to start soon. This will take me to the banks of the river Cam where I suspect those water nymphs and minor water deities will attempt to delay me, or worse, use their magical powers to ensnare me into their worlds. It’s a risky business, running!

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This is my roast chicken supper last night, the fuel of super heroes. The stuff in the centre is stuffing not sausage meat. I don’t eat pork now. I kept four pigs for eighteen months. They were beautiful creatures and good communicators. They gave wise advice in the main but their running tips were rubbish.

                              

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Aliveandrunning April 27 2014

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Ickworth House, Suffolk, owned by the National Trust, and can be visited by any undistinguished plebeian during opening hours in exchange for a small fee. And you can belong to any social class. They don’t turn away even the lowest. Anyway, I digress. The Ickworth House Estate provided the course for today’s 10K race and very enjoyable it proved to be. We ran along country paths, through woods, estate roads and by the sides of fields. The weather was much better than expected. The rain held off and the temperature was fine for running (albeit a little cold when you finished). The course included a couple of long steepish hills which took the stuffing out of me. I didn’t feel like an immortal god at this point and genuine Greek gods don’t get colds. I got in around in 52 minutes 42 secs on an undulating course and not feeling 100 % so I shouldn’t complain. I was thrashed by my arch rivals but only by a few minutes so there’s still room for a cunning plan.

I ran with a Cambridge and Coleridge vest and Lorna has joined a very sociable and friendly new club, Fen Edge Runners. 10 K is too far for her at present but she’s making plans for a 10 K in the near future. We know most of the Fen Edge Runners and tend to socialise with them which always adds enjoyment to any race.

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This is a pic of some of my C & C chums. I am the uncoordinated one in yellow. The runner in pink is a Fen Edge Runner who is lurking around hoping to pick up running tips and inside information from loose C & C tongues.

I’ve just seen a news item concerning today’s canonisation of John Paul 11 and John xx111   The ritual involved a container with a vial of John Paul’s blood and a container with a sliver of John’s skin. As my son Nick said “they were thinking ahead.” So these body parts were preserved in the expectation that one day in the future, possibly decades away, they would be central to a saint making ritual. Nice forward planning, Vatican!

The ceremony seemed entirely populated by elderly men with sufficient wealth to clothe themselves in very expensive fancy dress and some great hats. Didn’t see many women participating either. I’m sure that nice new Pope Francis will reform the millennia long habit of the Papacy to cross dress and add further layers of spurious gravitas to their ridiculous theatre which greatly helps to pull the wool over so many eyes.

To end on an even more depressing note, I think the English growing season for Brussels sprouts has ended!