GEORGE’S APRIL RAMBLINGS
Scaffolding strewn across the front
of the house has restricted the running for now as the paint brush brings out
the artist in me. Half of my O’level qualifications
are in Art though the easel was not
my first love - that would be the pencil. The running wags thought a ‘gallows’ was under construction! At long last I was
to pay for my many misdemeanours. As usual, in my drama filled life, the shape
of the pear is president.
The running is coming together. I
enjoyed my run at Lytham and was
looking forward to travelling to Italy
the following week. Once more I would be staying with Lamberto Visseli the father of
Steffania McPheely. (Sometimes I think women should be allowed to keep
there maiden name). I planned to get in as much training in as possible
including my stay in the mountain
of Montefiore.
The plan was going well until the Wednesday morning, the day before we were
to leave. That Wednesday it was an
eightish miler with Caroline, then
the Wednesday night run from the Vic with Peter and Lee. It was less
than a mile from Caroline’s house
when my calf went on me; it slowly stiffened until, in the end, I was dragging
my left leg the last few hundred yards. In the past Andy, my physio had treated this before and within 24 hours I was
running with no effects. As we departed, leaving from Liverpool the following
morning, there was no time to see Andy.
I limped for the first few days of the holiday. The calf did not stop me
cycling though and Steff took great
delight in leaving me for dead in our 20k
mountain cycle ride.
In Italy, as always, there was brilliant food to
die for and as good a scenery as you could wash your eyes with. The strange
gang of five jelled perfectly: myself
with Steff and daughter Amanda, (who were, as always, the absolute perfect and enjoyable
companions), and Helen, with
daughter Fabia. (Helen is a young mother of six who
qualified as a Barrister two years
ago and kindly promised me a discount as a prospective future client!) The
highlight of each day was the visit to the coffee shop and the lavish evening 
meal.
Really Steff should have had the hump with me as, very early in our
friendship, and being honest, I was a touch tactless. Steff is a very competitive, determined individual and the only
person I know to have represented England
at squash. When she first really started pushing it, her aim was to break 40
minutes for 10k. She asked my
opinion and I was blunt.
“Think of all the fast lady runners; most are built like sticks but you
are too big. You have the handicap of carrying bags of potatoes strapped to the
top of your thighs.” To her credit, Steff takes it as well as giving it but I am reminded every now and
again, when running is discussed, what I had said. The more I think of that remark
the more I agree with it. Running is dominated by underweight people. When I
have been in the proximity of elite, mainly African runners, the thing that stands out is how skinny they are.
I can’t think of any World Class
distance runner who is anywhere near 10 stones. Running, on the whole, is
dominated by underweight bags of bones. This knowledge makes me feel smug. Would
they beat me if they gained over three stones? Probably “yes” but not by as big a
distance and they would not be breaking any World records because fatties like me don’t.
I watched the Marathon before climbing
the scaffolding for a second undercoat. I love the whole London experience. It is by far the best mass
organised race in the World. I sat
nodding in agreement with the marvellous Steve
Cram that any real runner would rather be running than watching. Then again
I nod at a lot of things on the telly - on the quiet I nod far too much. I
spotted Steve, Dave Lord from Clayton and Steve Hallas, who had gone into the race with a 69 minute half
marathon PB. Steve Hallas was after the sub
2:30 and had done everything right. He even had a message of support from Helen Clitheroe, who thankfully is not
under weight even though she is bloody fast. I loved the race, and then the
times started to filter through the new equivalent of jungle drums, texting. Steve had run 2:33; remarkable given the conditions the other Steve regrettably was 2:45. I don’t know anyone who does not
like Steve Hallas. He is very
popular so I know everyone who ever stood at a Marathon start line would feel for him. Of all
the races the Marathon
is, without doubt, the most unforgiving and the relationship that you should
walk away from as soon as the violence starts. Marathons bewitch and can destroy runners; good runners who perform
well are left bruised and battered from Marathons.
Injuries and, worse of all, the mental beating inflicted in chasing times
destroy many fine runners.
There were many representatives from
the club at this year’s race. Helen and Charles decided to run to raise money
in memory of Charles’s father. Simon was raising money and awareness
of his daughter, Emily May’s rare
medical condition, Sotos. I
appreciated the new, easy way of pledging money where the charity can reclaim
the tax. I am sure everyone enjoyed the weekend though the extreme weather
would have made the condition uncomfortable for most. The commentary that
always surprises me is that the Africans
are taking on a lot of water - it must be too hot for them! Where do they
live? Obviously not in Africa!
Lots of people run in Marathons - few
actually race them………………..
Lee and I have been bonding around Poulton
most Friday nights where talk of
running is banned except a couple of weeks ago. We bumped into the Blackpool Mafia! Though they out numbered us
they knew I outweigh them so I got loads of respect but not one offer of a
drink. The fast lads were out on the town but crowded pubs are not beneficial
for skinny lads to get to the bar. Lee and
I decided to watch Paddy’s Pole the following day.
Here is the contradiction; I would
rather run a Marathon
than run up that bloody hill then run back down again. If you have never
watched an English Fell Running
Championship race, and you call yourself a runner, go and watch one. Then
prove that the sharp end is not mad and I will let Lee buy you a drink.
Finally a massive Congratulations to Lee Barlow for a brilliant 34:59
10K PB. If I told you what he had been up to the 48 hours previous to the
race you would not believe me but it did involve the quickest London Marathoner in Lancashire, night clubs
and lots of beer!
Written by:
George Kennedy
Submitted
30th April 2007
Edited by: Brenda J Earnshaw WRR Editor