Great North Run 2015 : Part 2

Abject apologies to the entire blogging world. I accidentally pressed “publish” instead of “save draft” yesterday. I failed to notice this until Jeremy Corbyn, the new Labour leader’s media team contacted me and said Jeremy had commented that he was sure I wanted to say a bit more in this blog. He was right! Thanks Jeremy.

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The Great North Run in Newcastle last weekend. 47,000 runners gathered on a closed motorway and ran to South Shields on the coast 13.1 miles away. I wasn’t running but I was there as a spectator and supported Joe, my daughter’s boyfriend and a family friend, Sue and her friend Abi. Also spectating were Ms Alive and Running (Lorna) and Mike, Sue’s husband, previously an arch rival but now so fast even Mo would tremble at the mention of his name. A great race and a great atmosphere but not such a great transport system. We had huge difficulties getting back to Newcastle and my daughter Isobelle missed her connections back to London. Nevertheless it was a good running day, the weather could not have been better and the previous day we had a great meal with Joe’s lovely family who live in Newcastle.

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We stayed in Durham, a short distance from the magnificent Cathedral which dates from the eleventh century. A hauntingly beautiful building, a monument to religious worship and complete indifference for the human condition as lived at the time.

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We climbed to the top of the Tower which called for a great deal of effort. I didn’t feel any closer to God despite the spectacular views. A wonderful, spiritual building and a reflection of man’s hubris and vanity all in one. It’s full of male commemoration and eternal respect for the great and good but I didn’t see many  women represented. Am I being unfair, casting a twenty first century cultural eye over a medieval society? No, I’m not that kind of guy. Perhaps I over think these things. No, you don’t!  Yes, you do!

Out running with the club yesterday. We went over to the American Cemetery to do some hill work (you really have to seek out the hills around Cambridge). It was completely dark by the time we returned to the University athletics track. Some of us were wearing head torches which are very helpful if the beam is strong enough. I’m considering getting one. It will only be worthwhile if I start running in the evenings, of course, because if you wear them during daylight, people are not greatly impressed.

I’m happier with the club at the moment. They are trying very hard to introduce new training runs and are seeking feedback and runners’ views. This is good. I also feel they are considering slower runners’ needs which can be a difficult balance, on the road, when there is such a disparity of speeds.

So Jeremy Corbyn is the newly elected Labour Party leader. Despite all the media scorn and high level of spite from his own colleagues, despite the vicious condemnation from the political pundits and various stupid people, he won the contest overwhelmingly. There will be spin and compromise and economies with the stark truth but nothing like the degree of falsity and degradation of values under previous Labour regimes. It’s widely predicted Labour will be unelectable at the 2020 election. I don’t believe this.

Coming next on the blog………pictures of a bookshop (actually inside the bookshop as well) and old wooden doors. It’s that exciting.

RantRantRantRant…..probably not running enough !

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This Is a clever card on several levels. It encapsulates a British 1950’s sentiment of wholesome perfection, middleclass values and almost religious rapture. It identifies three modern activities which are associated with relaxation, fun or enjoyable self indulgence and, more darkly, a suggestion of medical treatment. And then reveals the existence of hidden and shocking aggression. Of course this description robs it of all humour which is recognisable instantly at first reading. Never mind! It still has the ring of truth if taken literally.

What it highlights is the common existence of feelings of passive aggression and an urge to exact physical retribution with no clear reason why. The right wing and gutter press are full of it with their emphasis on free loading benefit claimants, rhetoric against migrants, lukewarm belief or outright scepticism of asylum seekers and rubbishing as outmoded socialism, or trades union extremism, any policies which are designed  to benefit the majority rather than appeal to the personal gain of individuals. What you get with the evil Tories are clearly defined groups which purport to  threaten, steal, sponge or unfairly gain at the expense of ordinary hard working people, huge business subsidies and tax breaks to benefit their own class, and worthless but convincing reassurances like “The NHS is safe with us”.

Add to this the relatively recent vogue for extended news coverage of titillating emotionality (victims’ statements, views of neighbours expressing incredulity, people demonstrating extreme grief, shock or distress and highly charged press conferences), it’s all too easy to feel emotionally manipulated, diverted and  deceived. You think you are caring to feel upset but in reality it’s a passive, contrived experience which exploits both the grief stricken and the viewer. Not all the time but a lot of the time.

Thank God some great people have the capacity to keep it real. Dead pan humorous  real. Kanye West has just announced his bid for the 2020 American presidency thus giving a lie to the stereotypical view that Americans don’t get irony.

Not too much happening on the running front. Last week I went out with the club and we did a fartlek around Cambridge. I enjoyed it. The newer coaches are trying hard to be inclusive of all running abilities and I feel they are succeeding. It’s not easy to cater for fast runners in their teens, 20s and 30’s as well as slower people in their 60’s and coming up to 70. But the will is there. I think the key is two coaches per road running session so the less fast runners don’t feel neglected or a drag.

I marshalled at Cambridge parkrun on the weekend which I always find an education. My position allowed me to see the start of the race. Those lads at the very front are labouring under the misapprehension that parkrun is a race judging by their stance, concentration, and ability to filter out all extraneous distractions including encouragement as they hurtle around. At the other end of the spectrum are the runners struggling to improve despite carrying an awful lot of weight but wanting to succeed. And they are!

Jeremy Corbyn, prospective leader of the Labour Party has spoken about introducing women only carriages on some trains. I support this. I know this proposal has been roundly condemned by a sizeable proportion of talking heads but speaking on behalf of the male population, we really can’t be trusted to consistently behave ourselves appropriately. Everyday sexism and hormone inspired conduct is still rife. A compete indictment of male behaviour? Certainly.

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What’s this, then? C P Snow’s eleven novel sequence of novels,. Strangers and Brothers, Penguin editions published between 1962 and 1982 (not original published dates). Two missing but easily obtainable. I have read several of them decades ago but I will now read the entire sequence. They follow the life and career of Lewis Eliot from a provincial town in England to London lawyer, Cambridge don, wartime service in Whitehall, senior civil servant and finally retirement. The novels were published between 1940 and 1970. They encapsulate a previous age and culture which I find absorbing. Otherwise I wouldn’t be reading them, would I? The paperbacks are quite old and the pages are tanned. I think these aged Penguins are a marvel. Estimated time to completion : 2017. So many other things get in the way.

An increasing circle of running friends

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Last Saturday at Wimpole Estate parkrun. The weather was excellent, we all had a good run and then had coffee and homemade cake to celebrate a 100h parkrun.

Six years to the day, today, since I had my heart attack at 58. Within 3 hours, I was stented, returned to the ward, spent two nights in hospital, discharged home to the care of my wife, Lorna and began a period of recuperation and recovery. I attended an excellent rehab programme at Addenbrookes hospital in Cambridge consisting of a series of cardiac, diet and lifestyle talks and later physical rehabilitation in the hospital gym where it was a sobering sight seeing very ill or disabled people struggling to recover. Concerning the national uptake for cardiac rehabilitation, Addenbrookes was one of the highest at 46% (that is, 54% of suitable cardiac candidates declined the opportunity). 12 planned sessions of increasing, monitored activity. I enjoyed these sessions and had complete confidence in the experienced staff (cardiac rehab nurses, sports scientist and dietician).

My only serious criticism of the Addenbrookes cardiac care path was the absence of psychological and emotional focus in the rehab programme and particularly the impact on close family. Probably my experience of a myocardial infarction wasn’t typical. I quickly self diagnosed I was having a heart attack, I didn’t experience pain, I wasn’t frightened, I had complete confidence in the ambulance crew, the paramedic and the hospital staff. Unfortunately it was very different for Lorna who wasn’t with me at the time and had to make her own way to the hospital and wait a long time for information about me. It was a far more traumatic experience for her. Subsequently, the rehab programme seemed to marginalise the family and didn’t appear to recognise that some patients were depressed, anxious or frightened,

Overall, I feel lucky to have had a cardiac episode in the Addenbrookes/Papworth Hospital area. Even when I made a discreet complaint (to the cardiac rehab nurse) about the arrogant and rude attitude of a registrar at an out patient appointment, it was sorted out quickly and without fuss.

Six months later, I discovered Cambridge parkrun which had started 5 weeks previously and I’ve never looked back. Running didn’t stop me having a heart attack but it furnished me with a level of fitness that allowed me to recover and continue running at a satisfactory level which includes 10ks and half marathons. That’s more than good enough.

Fast Fruit?

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Wimpole Estate parkrun. I look like an escaped banana pursued by smoothie bounty hunters but this astute and discerning photographer saw through the comic potential and recorded this classic, timeless running image. And to top it all, I was the first person to come in at number 76.

The weather was very kind on Saturday, the cows with their scary pointy horns sat around playing Monopoly, forsaking their menacing poses and ignoring the runners  and even the sheep, famously daft, kept out of our way. Three of our friends from deepest Essex, came up to run with us and we gave a lift to another pal who usually runs at Cambridge. Post race, we had coffee and a bite to eat in the National Trust café and sat around chatting for an hour. A brief visit to the pre-loved bookshop yielded only three old OS maps despite being horribly tempted by serendipity, and then home.

Gorgon Brown, ex Labour prime Minister for a month or two after Tony Blair, gave a speech today containing a “coded message”, warning against choosing a Labour leader who would be divisive and make Labour unelectable at the next election. Using skills gained during a visit to Bletchley Park several years ago, I rapidly decoded the hidden message and concluded he was referring to Jeremy Corbyn. This is the same Gorgon Brown who, as Chancellor of the Exchequer so proudly boasted of light touch regulation of the banks and financial institutions which allowed them to run amok. The same Gorgon Brown in the Blair government that was utterly determined to pitch into the Iraq war with the Americans. The same Gorgon Brown, who along with all the other Labour heavyweights and the Miliband shadow government, utterly failed to address the evil Tories’ onslaught of rhetoric which continually blamed the Labour party in power for all the debt and economic ills whilst affecting a “we care about the common people and your NHS” stance. An extremely poor judge, to put it mildly!

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This pic features Ms Alive and Running establishing whether or not it was safe to go near to the edge. This was an independent decision, undertaken without my consent. I’m sure if I had done this, severe  criticism would have ensued.

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Part of the Seven Sisters, East Sussex between the Birling gap and Beachy Head, the coastal bit of the South Downs. Very hilly. Excellent running country. Useless for high diving or cliff top homes.

Cambridge Half Marathon, end of February 2016 : interest registered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

RUN, DON’T QUESTION!

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Wimpole Estate parkrun nearly two weeks ago. This shows the courtyard tower and below ye old spinning lady creating yarn and ye old knitted items to buy. National trust, so guaranteed to be an interesting parkland course, very middle class, frightening to aficionados of modern architecture and to have plenty of sprightly elderly  volunteers who enthusiastically inform you of the history of the stately home and its grand rooms. I think the vast majority of runners will feel grateful to have the opportunity to run in such an environment (as long as they don’t dwell to deeply on issues like social equality, class experiences, the have and the have nots etc. Come to think about it, weren’t many of our most proud cities built on the proceeds of slavery and exploitation?) It’s just that kind of thinking that can be very distracting and slow down your parkrun time. So my advice is to forget the past. It’s literally dead in the water. Thinking too much can raise all sorts of awkward questions. You start to question everything and then things can really go awry. Look at all those people hell bent on supporting Jeremy Corbyn’s bid to lead the Labour Party. The Loony Left (as defined by most of the Labour Party and the entire evil Tory Party) clearly think too much, question too much and as a result will cause the Labour movement to implode. So, the lesson to be learned is be socially aware and compassionate up to a point, listen to moderation, don’t be seduced by attractive but totally unrealistic policies and accept the banks and poorly governanced capitalism are sometimes not run in the best interests of everyone but ultimately and mysteriously create maximum wealth for society as a whole. Does it really matter if the Tories fool most of the people most of the time? They seem to have a handle on most things. And they’re absolutely brilliant at evil.

Anyway back to running. Recent parkrun controversy. Complaints were made concerning a fast runner or runners (unknown) pushing aside a slower runner as they lapped them on the narrow woodland course. This happens only occasionally and is entirely unacceptable. If identified, the culprit should be returned to evil Tory Party Head Office and re-programmed. No-one was identified, there was a lot of condemnation of the egregious behaviour and a lot of emphasis on parkrun being a run not a race. In fact it’s a time trial! Of course this would carry greater weight if the results weren’t organised from the fastest time to the slowest in a clear hierarchy (as in a race). Luckily, we all know it’s a run (except the ones who persist in believing it’s a race). I must acknowledge the run director handled the issue very adeptly and very fairly. It’s not easy managing to please 400 plus people charging around a narrow two circuit course.

I went running over the South Downs around Brighton in Sussex this week Lovely, undulating trails which allowed me to do a bit of hill work denied to me in Cambridge.

Warning : this blog contains irony and litotes. Reading is undertaken at your own risk!!!!

Running, punting, yakking, gasping, digging, reading, gardening and other -ings

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Ms Alive and Running and I ran Gorleston parkrun, near Great Yarmouth, Norfolk recently. It was a fine, warm, sunny day and the course comprised of two simple laps of a lower and upper sea promenade with only one steep zig zag path connecting the two levels ie we only had to ascend it once because we started at the top and finished at the bottom.

 

 

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We stayed in this little hobbit house overlooking the sand dunes in Winterton -on-Sea. I went for a lovely run to an adjacent seaside town by way of the dunes. I struggle to make an appropriate comparison but suffice it to say that one was a WI stronghold and the other a magnet for fast food and candy floss lovers. The latter was undeniably colourful in every sense and I found my senses being overwhelmed. Winterton, I suspect, is a Tory and UKIP kind of place but I might have found evidence to the contrary when I fell into conversation with Peter Chapman who was painting images onto his camper van. It transpired he is the uncle of the Chapman Brothers, Jake and Dinos, nationally and internationally known visual artists with a controversial portfolio. He is also an artist and sculptor and gave me a tour of his studio and garden.This was very generous of him. I can confirm that he is not exactly a typical resident of Winterton.

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Thanks, Peter!

Back to Cambridge. I like to watch and take pics of the punts, particularly from Garret Hostel Bridge or King’s College Bridge. Today I went to Queens’ College and went onto the Mathematical Bridge.DSC_0973

 

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My Druid book finally arrived, by Amazon (non-drone) rather than Guardian bookshop who said it was out of print. Naughty Guardian bookshop! My spiritual and magical renaissance is still on hold because I’m reading Gut : the Inside Story of our Body’s Most Under-Rated Organ. Very readable, very interesting, a complete education in intestinal health, ill health and poo related facts. Warning : sitting on a Western style toilet seat is not good for gut health. Squatting is much better.

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Lastly, I’ve been doing plenty of digging and planting donated plants. My therapeutic gardening project continues to progress at a glacial pace for various reasons but is set to take a leap forward when I cover the constructed skeleton of the polytunnel with its plastic cover in the next fortnight. I’ve visited another gardening project, Gardening with Grace, in Bedford and they’ve visited me. It’s been very helpful and given me a different perspective on how to go about what I want to achieve.

A Rather Large Statue at Kings Cross St. Pancras Railway Station

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Kings Cross St. Pancras Station. The Meeting Place, a 9 metre statue by British sculptor Paul Day, situated under the clock, or two clocks actually.

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I was in London recently, travelling down from Cambridge, to attend an outpatient appointment at Moorfields eye hospital which I calculate to be around 3 miles from the station by foot. This was the fourth time I had walked to the hospital and the first time I got lost. I have a sixth sense when it comes to choosing a direction and almost always I choose the wrong one when I decide to “improve” the route.  I got even more lost when I walked back to Kings Cross. No matter. I find it very pleasurable walking in London. I crossed over the Grand Union canal a couple of times. I think all of it is walkable along its tow path right up to Birmingham, 137 miles away.

I’m having “issues” with myself concerning running with my club and I’m not running so regularly at present. A number of the slower, older runners of which I am one, now seem have to have dropped out and I’m road running with much faster, younger clubbers. I’m missing some training sessions but I’ll still hang on. I continue to do parkrun weekly and I’m only 12 away from the 250th which is pleasing. I did a 10k race at the beginning of the month and another 10k at the National Trust Wimpole Hall Estate last week. But part of me wants to run alone as I did for nearly 30 years before loads of races started appearing  and before parkrun came along. Am I reverting to type? No, not really but the reality is that I don’t have much in common with most runners I know apart from running. And I have a limited capacity to talk about running. Or any sport!

I’ve signed up for an introductory creative writing course, starting in September and 10 sessions in length. I’m looking forward to it. It should kick start my interest in writing again. Hopefully I’ll be motivated to look again at the 70,000 word children’s novel I wrote but never revised. I completed the bare bones of it following my heart attack nearly 6 years ago but it’s lain fallow for the last 5 years. I was told that children can smell the author’s own moralising a mile off when it’s superimposed on characters. But somebody has to tell the young what’s what! They gotta learn, aint they? All right!Guilty as charged.

Jeremy Corbyn, prospective Labour Party leader, in the upcoming leadership contest and now apparently a real contender. A relatively radical left winger and old style Labour activist. The moderates and moderate Right Labour MPs are now having kittens at his unexpected support, fearing they will be unelectable as a Party at the next election. A modern acronym sums this up : LOL! What the left needs to do is create a new and compelling response to the black propaganda spewing out from the evil, self serving Tory party for the last 5 years.

My bloody book on druidism still hasn’t arrived ! I ordered it from the Guardian Bookshop nearly 6 weeks ago. My spiritual enlightenment remains on hold.

 

 

SHOULD I KEEP RUNNING OR BECOME A DRUID ?

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With all the drama and heightened significence of a single droplet of water falling to the floor in a tropical rain forest in the rainy season, when the volume of rain has been extreme, even for a rain forest, I resurrect this blog !

Aaahhhh……. the pull of nature and mysticism. We went to Glastonbury recently to visit the town and climb the Tor (not to attend the Festival). We like Glastonbury. There’s a feeling that the 60’s never went away, a Center Parcs for old hippies, a place where you can easily buy a magic wand and no one bats an eye lid if you wander around in cloaks, habits or pointed hats.

But prior to entering the enchanted town, we  stayed at Montacute and ran the Yeovil Montacute parkrun in the grounds of the eponymous House which is owned by the National Trust. And a very nice late Tudor country pile it was,too.

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A lovely parkland course, the weather was clement and the run director and volunteers could not have been more friendlier or welcoming. We’ll definitely be returning (when the omens are auspicious and the sun moon and stars are correctly aligned).

Forget Dubai, New York or even East London, Glastonbury is the cool destination to hang out if you are an actual or even a  closet pagan. It’s so easy to buy a wand. I spent a lot of time looking in a wand cabinet, perhaps too long and Mrs Alive and Running bought me some patchouli oil.  We ate in the vegetarian Rainbow’s End cafe, natch, and generally tried not irritate the wizards and witches by treading on their robes.

And so to the Tor!

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Magical, mysterious, steeped in spiritual history, overlooking the Somerset Levels and the Isle of Avalon, the Tor is topped by the roofless St. Michael’s Tower. The hill is associated with King Arthur, paganism, goddess worship and having a mystical positioning. It’s a beautiful mound to climb and then sit around thinking about nature worship, astral planes and magic while bracing yourself against the wind. By a wonderful coincidence (or was it pre-ordained) we arrived at the top of the Tor as 60 or 70 druids were climbing up the other side to gather for an early summer solstice celebration.They belonged to the Order of Bards, Obvates and Druids and were chatty and friendly. They were quite happy for people to watch their ceremony, respectfully take photos and ask them about their beliefs. They were down to earth (no pun intended), articulate, intelligent and sensible. We liked them.

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Yesterday, it was very warm (although not as hot as London’s 34-36c today). Instead of running with the club in the evening, I went for a 9 mile morning run before the sun got too fierce and took a large bottle of isotonic drink in a holster belt. Sensible or what? It’s coming up to 6 years since I had my heart attack and I’ve run consistently and longer distances since then. I don’t know any other runners with coronary heart disease but it would be nice to know how they are faring and their experience of taking the obligatory medication. Are there any out there in the blogosphere?

Alive and Running May 1 2015 London Marathon 2015

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The London Marathon 2015 on Sunday April 26. I was there as a participant (a participating spectator), enduring the cold and ogling the thousands of runners lucky enough to obtain an entry.

We journeyed down early from Cambridge and were drinking coffee in a Canary Wharf coffee shop by 9 am. This enabled us to see the whole race beginning with the racing wheelchairs, then the runners with a disability, the elite women. the elite men, the fast club runners, the huge number of regular and occasional runners, the walk and jog runners and finally those men and women bravely attempting the distance, who would probably make it eventually but were really struggling.

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Brendan Foster on BBC TV commented that the London Marathon is unusual for having fancy dress runners. Marathons outside the UK don’t seem to attract them. Thank God I live here then. Fancy dress is a good corrective to the intense seriousness of the faster folk  who would probably trample you to death and run on if you stumbled in their path. The elite runners are fascinating for the few seconds they remain in view and the runners with a disability are clearly triumphing over considerable adversity. We like to see them but as they run past they appear completely detached and out of sympathy with anyone else apart from themselves. I found myself  not particularly interested in them or their speed on this occasion, with the exception of Paula Radcliffe. She wasn’t running with the elite pack (which I knew) and she was on top of me (metaphorically speaking) before I clocked her. I got a couple of shots in from the side, grinning, so I was happy.

We were opposite the elite runners drink station. The tables only hold a few well spaced bottles which the runners easily recognise as their own as they approach. It was comical to see a succession of marshals and volunteers pick up Paula’s bottle to be photographed holding it. It was disappointing not to snap them taking a swig for the camera!

We managed to see a number of people we knew but the bulk of the runners I knew from the club seemed to be running around three and a half hours, give or take 20 minutes. Unfortunately, at Canary Wharf, between miles 18 and 19, at the time they would have been passing us, we went for coffee and a bite to eat. We really needed a break from the cold and inactivity. Who are really the heroes? The marathon runners or the the brave spectators? The latter, obviously.

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 We stayed late into the afternoon and saw the official end of the marathon display car drive past which announced that roads would now be open and the course closed. Immediately behind followed a succession of lorries and tractors picking up signs and barriers, spraying painted markers on the road with a solvent and collecting rubbish. And weaving in and out of this maelstrom of vehicles, dozens of runners were still attempting to finish the course. The crowds were gone, the marshals had left their posts, the roads up ahead would be open to traffic and I presume direction sign posts would be removed. They still had between 7 and 8 miles to go! A few people gave them encouragement to which they enthusiastically responded but others appeared exhausted. It was very poignant.

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These are the strongest and bravest people. They have peak endurance and emotional strength far greater than the runners who trained up and worried about their times. My monies on them!

Alive and Running April 19 2015

WP_20150419_015 New tactics for parkrun. It’s a good example of thinking outside of the box. I was musing (metaphorically) about scything down the competition and then I thought  why not in actuality! So when I saw this scythe at a local garage sale, I knew the universe was giving me something I needed. I bought it for a song ( Let It Be, and I threw in a shortened version of American Pie as an encore). I still have to figure out where to place myself on the start line but that’s not likely to be a problem since I think there’ll be plenty of space around me wherever I choose to stand (particularly if I’m wearing something black and hooded.

Anyway, back to a pre-scythe parkrun at Wimpole Estate yesterday. It went OK. Not too cold, a reasonable time and some unexpected sun. There was a frost at 7.45 am when I walked Rupert the dalmatian but by 9 am it had warmed up sufficiently to run without a jacket. A good cup of coffee and a fruit scone with strawberry jam in the National Trust restaurant/cafe with Ms Alive and Running and our running chums completed a very enjoyable morning.

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In the afternoon we went into Cambridge for a birthday meal. The sun remained out and the scene on the Cam was barely distinguishable from the Venetian Grand Canal.

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And so, today, to Ickworth House, which is a rotunda, to run a Hoohaar 10k on the estate. I think all races should be held on National Trust properties. Great facilities (lavatories instead of toilets, lovely large, airy cafes, wonderful grounds) and entry to the right class of person. The plebs are turned away at the Gate House and advised to go and run in a public park. Only joking! The hoi polloi are guaranteed entry everywhere.

The race went well and I knocked off 90 seconds from last year. There is an evil hill at 9k which slowed me down considerably but I’m not complaining (much). It’s a beautiful course, mainly trail, and undulating. Unfortunately one of our running friends, who moved to Yorkshire and came down for this race, fell and injured her knee. Unable to continue, she had to hobble back because of a lack of mobile signal and inadequate contingency arrangements.

And speaking of class based entertainment, one can do no better than listen to BBC Radio 4’s Paul Temple and the Gregory Affair, a 2013 production of Francis Durbridge’s detective drama at 11.30 am on Fridays. Paul Temple, his wife , Steve (female) and the top policemen have cut glass English accents and weld power effortlessly with confidence and panache. Gentle drama, gentle comedy and so redolent of a 30’s and 40’s class divided Britain.