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Source: http://feeds2.feedburner.com/edenrunners

1. <?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318</id><updated>2024-02-07T02:37:11.726+00:00</updated><category term="Fellraces"/><category term="Fell Champs"/><category term="wE"/><title type='text'>Eden Runners</title><subtitle type='html'>We&#39;re a friendly running club based on the edge of the Lakes in Penrith.&#xa;Here&#39;s where we relax and chill over a few photos and some ibuprofen.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Rhiannon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12334065633186919990</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSc-eeZeqB6BNKgzbQ12qM24NCNeLLpatiwxt5LdgacAhzjhZe5T6TP1a03L58yahRm0VDvRvRap_B_Kp5bmaG5jFWCVhCDkK4WiZdwER7qGiNppIi8ZA6zes-XESXnQ/s220/kayakandme.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>74</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-312021579852074864</id><published>2013-10-13T19:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2013-10-13T19:09:10.773+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Spikes or No Spikes, that is the Question!</title><content type='html'>
2. <br />
3. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
4. After 3 years at Eden
5. Runners, and 3 successful / clarty xc seasons, I wondered what I
6. could give back to the club. So, on a miserable, clarty, muddy run
7. around the bustling metropolis known as Bitts Park, it dawned on me
8. 'hmm XC Ladies Captain', quickly followed by another thought of 'I
9. fancy a new pair of trainers', then 'I think I just swallowed a
10. bluebottle'...</div>
11. <br />
12.  
13. And so it was, at last
14. week's AGM, somewhere between 'the chips are ready' and 'where the
15. hell are my car keys', I was sworn in, ready to take on the challenge
16. of inspiring Eden's womanhood into venturing off the hallowed tarmac
17. of Penrith and into Cumbria's deepest, darkest fields.  I had my work
18. cut out, as first race was only days away – Maryport XC. As I
19. hadn't run it before I had no knowledge of the course, but with a
20. good dose of 'you'll all enjoy it' attitude I plugged away on a
21. propaganda campaign the world hasn't seen the likes of since a short
22. moustached Austrian man decided that Germany could do with acquiring
23. a few new countries in the late 1930s...<br />
24.  
25. <br />
26. Task number 1 - how to
27. convince people to go to Maryport. Well, erm, its near Allonby so you
28. can get a decent ice cream, it's got some nice chip shops, and it's
29. handy for Flimby's New Balance shop in case you fancy a new shiny
30. piece of running kit. Then I had to remember, getting to Maryport
31. wasn't the aim of this task, it was to get people there, to glide /
32. huff and puff / swear their way round Netherhall's finest sports
33. fields. It was going to be difficult, not only had those people
34. behind the Lowther 10k decided to stage a much more appealing /
35. friendly / less chance of breaking an ankle type of race the day
36. after Maryport, but also the people behind the National Road Relays
37. put their 'rival' event on on the same day! OK, not going to be a
38. record turnout I thought, but at least its a base to build on.<br />
39.  
40. <br />
41. So, the day of the race
42. came, a late course inspection by the legend of all badly attended
43. Cumbrian Races, the one and only (no Chesney Hawkes sing-a-long
44. required) Noel Hakeman, led us to be informed that the usual course
45. had been abandoned due to some bits being impassable. Ah, a nice flat
46. outing then around the playing fields then. By the time we had
47. registered for the seniors race, the junior races were well under
48. way, Eden vests gallantly doing battle with the other clubs, and
49. doing rather a fab job of it too. Great, no pressure on the seniors
50. to repeat the spectacle then hehehe. In no time, we were ushered to
51. the start line by Noel, exclaiming “is tha ready then eh? Go!”<br />
52.  
53. <br />
54. 5 and a bit laps of the
55. course stood before us, the view from the first pack (Eden's
56. contingent had opted to go for the 'hares' pack – the 'bloodhound'
57. group looked way too fast!) was a nice one. As usual, I tried to hold
58. myself back a little, reminding myself 'theres another 4 and a bit
59. laps to go', when out of nowhere, Pigeon Pete came bearing down on
60. me. My first thought 'oh bugger those marathons have knackered up my
61. pace!' so I floored it away. It turned out later on he did it on
62. purpose to keep me on my toes hehehe – nice one Pete! As the laps
63. came and went, John Andrewartha was putting in a stellar performance,
64. streaking off ahead with the signature big grin on his face. Chris
65. Bunker and myself fought it out near the front for a couple of laps,
66. I finally started to pull away and he proclaimed “well done Eck”,
67. I was wheezing like a knackered accordion but managed to splutter out
68. a “well done” in reply.  As I rounded the final corner, I spotted
69. the finish in sight, and shuffled my way to the line. Job done, the
70. Eden Three all home and all still smiling. Smiling not because we
71. knew the pain of xc running was over, but because there was cake
72. waiting for us in Herman the Tea (VW) Caddy.
73. <br />
74.  
75. <br />
76. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
77. <br />
78. Over at the Eden Tea
79. Caddy, we were greeted by Chris's lovely Eden Runners Cake, complete
80. with green and blue icing. As we merrily stuffed our faces, showing
81. Herman with crumbs, we noticed a couple of CFR and Derwent AC runners
82. who looked rather hungry and ushered them over. Their faces lit up,
83. as thoughts of racing weight and strict diets were abandoned in the
84. blink of an eye. Then, out of nowhere, the Border Reivers, aka Pete
85. and the kids, descended to seize the remains! They have requested for
86. the next race we make a Harriers coloured cake for them – I will
87. have to check with UK Athletics on the procedure for second claim
88. club cakes, as I would hate to breach one of Lord Coe's rulings –
89. heaven forbid! With runners fed and watered, everyone smiling, and
90. the leftover icing packed off with Pete's kids, all that was left to
91. do was to trundle home and plan our next xc outing – Burnley XC on
92. 26<sup>th</sup> October. Be there, or be square!</div>
93. <br />
94. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
95. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xMjTKaB6oCo/UlrhUlBaiQI/AAAAAAAAAmI/5SAoYQKumwA/s1600/maryportxc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xMjTKaB6oCo/UlrhUlBaiQI/AAAAAAAAAmI/5SAoYQKumwA/s320/maryportxc.jpg" width="239" /></a><br />
96. </div>
97. <br />
98. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
99.  </div>
100. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
101.  </div>
102. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
103.  </div>
104. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
105.  </div>
106. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
107.  </div>
108. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
109.  </div>
110. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
111.  </div>
112. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
113.  </div>
114. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
115.  </div>
116. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
117.  </div>
118. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
119.  </div>
120. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
121.  </div>
122. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
123.  </div>
124. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
125.  </div>
126. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
127.  </div>
128. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
129.  </div>
130. <div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
131. Captain Eck, signing
132. off.</div>
133. &lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=312021579852074864' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/312021579852074864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/312021579852074864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2013/10/spikes-or-no-spikes-that-is-question.html' title='Spikes or No Spikes, that is the Question!'/><author><name>john b</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05092626844275645993</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xMjTKaB6oCo/UlrhUlBaiQI/AAAAAAAAAmI/5SAoYQKumwA/s72-c/maryportxc.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-8028620199252440263</id><published>2013-04-28T12:16:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2013-04-28T12:16:03.617+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Holly&#39;s Marathon Mental Battle</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;
134. <div class="MsoNormal">
135. <b>6am:</b> “What the
136. hell is that noise? Oh it’s my alarm. Oh no. It’s Sunday. Oh no. Feel sick. Yep
137. today is the day. This is really happening. It’s not a dream. Oh crap. Get up.
138. Maybe I’ll just stay in bed and pretend I slept through the alarm. No stop
139. being stupid. Get up”</div>
140. <div class="MsoNormal">
141. <br /></div>
142. <div class="MsoNormal">
143. Get dressed. Number on. Socks on. Shoes on. Easy. Now what?
144. Oh yes go and run. </div>
145. <div class="MsoNormal">
146. <br /></div>
147. <div class="MsoNormal">
148. Breakfast time. Toast please breakfast man. 3 slices. Yes
149. lots of jam. Oh and a yogurt. Oh and maybe a banana. Oh and some tea please.
150. Other marathoners talking about their excitement. How are they all so cheerful?
151. It’s not fair. My feeling is currently of impending doom. Working hard not to
152. bring my toast back up. That would not be pleasant for anyone in this room.
153. Right enough of this. Time to go. Text from Dad, brief respite from the
154. nerves.  Horrible realisation that it’s
155. still happening. Grab the bags. Cram into the lift. Out of the lift. Join the
156. group of cheery runners at the reception desk. Feel a bit angry that they are
157. smiling, happy and chatting. Why do I feel so sick. Right time to go. Charing
158. Cross bound.</div>
159. <div class="MsoNormal">
160. <br /></div>
161. <div class="MsoNormal">
162. Outside. Fresh air. Already warm. Phone call from Rich. The
163. walk to Charing Cross passes quickly with chat and laughs. Not thinking about
164. the task ahead. Even managed to crack a smile. Phone call ends with “Good luck,
165. it’s just a jog. What’s the worst that can happen?” begin to think he’s right
166. and it’ll all be fine. That feeling lasts for approximately 3.4 seconds before
167. I feel sick again. Text from my brother, Jeff. Words of positivity as always.
168. “Good Luck. I don’t have time to attend a funeral this week so if you could
169. finish that would be great”. Oh hell fire. “Mum can we go home now please I
170. don’t want to do this” She thinks I’m joking. I’m not. </div>
171. <div class="MsoNormal">
172. <br /></div>
173. <div class="MsoNormal">
174. On the train. Really do feel sick. Can’t deal with people
175. talking about their past experiences. Headphones in. Hood up. 20 minutes of
176. silence in my own little world. Everyone must think I’m really unsociable. Oh
177. well. I think they’d prefer this than if I threw up on them. </div>
178. <div class="MsoNormal">
179. <br /></div>
180. <div class="MsoNormal">
181. <!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600"
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202. style='position:absolute;margin-left:297pt;margin-top:31.6pt;width:187.7pt;
203. height:250.3pt;z-index:251657216;visibility:visible'>
204. <v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\Holly\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.jpg"
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207. </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><img align="left" height="334" hspace="12" src="file:///C:/Users/Holly/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image002.jpg" v:shapes="Picture_x0020_1" width="250" /><!--[endif]-->Arrive at Blackheath.
208. Follow the masses. Try and encourage mum to run for me. She’s not having any of
209. it. There it is. The blue start. Oh no. It’s happening. An hour and a half
210. before the gun goes. What am I going to do. Stand in the toilet queue for over
211. half an hour. Great. Only an hour to go. So many people. Some look as nervous
212. as me. That’s a good sign. It’s not just me. 
213. Have another banana. 3 bites and it’s passed to mum. Still feel sick.
214. Pre race photos are taken. Mum has made a banner. “HOLLY CARPE DIEM”. Not a
215. clue what that means. Too nervous to care right now. Time to get myself into the
216. blue start. Good luck and hugs from mum and she quickly disappears into the
217. crowds. All alone. Oh crap. </div>
218. <div class="MsoNormal">
219. <br /></div>
220. <div class="MsoNormal">
221. Find my baggage bus. Mill around with others wasting more
222. time before putting the bag on the bus. Ring dad for some more reassurance.
223. “You’ll be fine. You’ll enjoy it” I believe him because he’s dad and he’s
224. always right. Apart from that time he said those cows wouldn’t chase us. He was
225. definitely wrong then. And the time he claimed dark chocolate was nicer than
226. milk chocolate. What a weirdo. More good lucks from dad. He’ll be tracking me
227. online and trying to spot me on the TV. Right. Bag on bus. 40 minutes to go.
228. Stand in another toilet queue. 15 minutes to go. Time to get in my start zone. About
229. 3 miles from the actual line. More time passes. People are beginning to look
230. nervous. A man behind is talking about his knee injury. He’s making excuses
231. early. People start moving forward. Is this it? I’ve not heard a starting gun. Oh
232. yes. This is it. Oh no. Toward the start line we go. </div>
233. <div class="MsoNormal">
234. <br /></div>
235. <div class="MsoNormal">
236. Oh I can see it. A man next to me starts running 100m before
237. the line. Fool. You’ll regret that later on. Here it is. Over the line. Garmin
238. started. Let’s go. </div>
239. <div class="MsoNormal">
240. <br /></div>
241. <div class="MsoNormal">
242. Start slow. Get slower. Yeh I’ll do that. Dodge around
243. people. 1 mile down. That was quick. Glance at the watch. Oh no that wasn’t
244. quick. Need to speed up. Joined by the masses from the Green start. Dodge some
245. more people. Keep moving. Slow down. Don’t get excited you still have a long
246. way to go. </div>
247. <div class="MsoNormal">
248. <br /></div>
249. <div class="MsoNormal">
250. Mile 2. Starting to feel warm. A woman is walking. Oh dear.
251. Manoeuvre round more people. Running alongside the people from the red start
252. now. The jeers have begun. Makes me think of the Poly vs Posh chants back at Uni.
253. Not appropriate to start shouting “Your dad works for my dad” here though. I’ll
254. just keep quiet. Downhill now. Stretch out the legs. Don’t get carried away. </div>
255. <div class="MsoNormal">
256. <br /></div>
257. <div class="MsoNormal">
258. Mile 3. 26.40. Not bad. On track. Keep moving. </div>
259. <div class="MsoNormal">
260. <br /></div>
261. <div class="MsoNormal">
262. Mile 4. Lucozade being handed out. No thanks. Feet sticking
263. to the floor. Lovely. </div>
264. <div class="MsoNormal">
265. <br /></div>
266. <div class="MsoNormal">
267. Mile 7. Way past Cutty Sark before I have even seen it. How
268. did I miss that? One of the big points on the course and I ran round it without
269. realising. What an idiot. Oh well. No time to dwell. Onward. </div>
270. <div class="MsoNormal">
271. <br /></div>
272. <div class="MsoNormal">
273. Mile 9. Towards the docks. Gel wrestled out of its holder
274. round my waist. Tastes horrific. Always does. Force it down. Yes a water
275. station. That’ll wash it down. Little and often that’s what dad said. He knows
276. best. </div>
277. <div class="MsoNormal">
278. <br /></div>
279. <div class="MsoNormal">
280. Mile 10. Why is it so hot? This is stupid. There has to be
281. some shade soon. Going to burn. Should have worn suncream. Why did I not think
282. of that? I wonder where mum is? I wonder if I’ve been on tv yet? I’m so hot.
283. Why am I doing this? Can I go home yet? That woman in front is wearing some
284. awful shoes. Shut up brain. Just run. </div>
285. <div class="MsoNormal">
286. <br /></div>
287. <div class="MsoNormal">
288. Mile 12. Right time to look out for the support crew. On to
289. the bridge. Eden Runners vest on a stick they said. Move over to the left of
290. the road. Keep looking. There it is. Sticking out onto the bridge flying high. See
291. Jeff. Spot a banner “Go Hollers”. Classic Jeff. Cheers mate. Anna and Louie.
292. Screaming. “GO HOLLY GO”. This is great. Massive smile. High 5’s all round.
293. I’ll see them at the finish. Overwhelmed. Feel the need to cry. Get a grip
294. woman. You’re nearly at half way. Come on. Get moving. </div>
295. <div class="MsoNormal">
296. <br /></div>
297. <div class="MsoNormal">
298. Mile 13.1. Half way. The countdown has begun. Just another
299. 13.1 to go. Easy. Simple. Feeling good. The fast men are coming back on the
300. other side of the road. I wish I was up to that point. They are running really
301. fast. I am not. Oh well. Keep moving. </div>
302. <div class="MsoNormal">
303. <br /></div>
304. <div class="MsoNormal">
305. Mile 14. Oh no. I need a wee. This is not good. I drank
306. little and often. Dad said that would work. This was not in the plan. Oh good
307. some toilets. Cut some people up and get across to them. Big queue. Not hanging
308. around. Bladder will have to wait. Just forget about it. Oh look we’re heading
309. towards the docklands. Yes lets have another gel. Feel a bit tired. This will
310. help.</div>
311. <div class="MsoNormal">
312. <br /></div>
313. <div class="MsoNormal">
314. Mile 16. More toilets. Yes no queue. Jump in. 30 seconds
315. lost. Don’t panic. Still 10 miles to go. Don’t get excited. Calm down. </div>
316. <div class="MsoNormal">
317. <br /></div>
318. <div class="MsoNormal">
319. Mile 18. Only 8 to go. Towards Canary Wharf. Twisty streets.
320. Slowing down. Bit of shade. I’m definitely burning. I’m going to have so many
321. freckles. Oh just too hot. Slow down a bit more. Take on more water. Don’t
322. listen to the legs screaming. </div>
323. <div class="MsoNormal">
324. <br /></div>
325. <div class="MsoNormal">
326. Mile 20. 6 to go. Everything hurts. Just walk a bit. No get
327. running. Maybe this is the wall? I think it is. Oh god. Everything really does
328. hurt. My knee hurts. But so does everything else. COME ON. Get moving. It’s 6
329. miles that’s easy. Remember what Jeff said last time “Only 10k to go, like a
330. walk in the park”. Exactly only 6 miles. Come on. Move. Yes I can do this.</div>
331. <div class="MsoNormal">
332. <br /></div>
333. <div class="MsoNormal">
334. Mile 20.5. I can’t do this. It hurts. It’s too far. I’m too
335. slow. Maybe i’ll just walk. I can do it under 5 hours if I walk the rest of the
336. way. NO get running. Come on its not that bad. </div>
337. <div class="MsoNormal">
338. <br /></div>
339. <div class="MsoNormal">
340. Mile 22. Keep plodding. Come on 4 left. Oh there’s Iwan
341. Thomas off of the TV. He’s walking. I’m running. He was really fast once and
342. I’ve overtaken him. I’m amazing. </div>
343. <div class="MsoNormal">
344. <br /></div>
345. <div class="MsoNormal">
346. Mile 23. Lots of music here. A man shouts from a party truck
347. that i’ve only got 3 miles left. He may be right but it still hurts. HELP. 3
348. miles. Come on. That’s easy. Have another gel that’s a good idea. That’ll help.
349. Gel in mouth. This one is tasty. Spot an Eden Runners vest on a stick. What? I
350. must be dreaming? Am I genuinely going delirious from the heat? Oh no wait
351. that’s Anna and Jeff. I’m not dreaming. Quick. Shouts of “HOLLY! KEEP GOING!”.
352. “Help me i’m really dying”. Reassuring words from Anna “No you’re not you’re
353. fine. 3 miles to go”. Quick hug. And i’m off. I’m amazing. Keep running. Speed
354. up 3 miles to go. </div>
355. <div class="MsoNormal">
356. <br /></div>
357. <div class="MsoNormal">
358. Mile 24. No don’t do that. That was an error. Slow down
359. again. More Lucozade. Need more energy. Through the tunnel. Eminem is blasting
360. out of speakers. “You’ve only got one shot do not miss your chance to blow,
361. this opportunity comes once in a lifetime” Cheers Eminem mate I needed that
362. boost. </div>
363. <div class="MsoNormal">
364. <br /></div>
365. <div class="MsoNormal">
366. Mile 25. 1 mile to go. Come on you can do this. Not far now.
367. 10 minutes of running left max. Thousands of people screaming. That’s big Ben.
368. Finally managed to locate a landmark after missing all the rest. Come on keep
369. going. Nearly there. </div>
370. <div class="MsoNormal">
371. <br /></div>
372. <div class="MsoNormal">
373. 800m to go. Come on this is easy now. That’s only twice
374. round the track on a Monday night. Simple. Power on.</div>
375. <div class="MsoNormal">
376. <br /></div>
377. <div class="MsoNormal">
378. 600m to go. Erm what? I’ve ran further than 200m since the
379. last sign. That must be at least a mile. </div>
380. <div class="MsoNormal">
381. <br /></div>
382. <div class="MsoNormal">
383. 400m to go. These signs are crap. I have ran about 3 miles
384. since the 800m sign. Can see the palace. It’s getting closer. Come on keep
385. moving. Can’t walk now there are thousands of people watching. Why am I not
386. there yet? HURRY UP.</div>
387. <div class="MsoNormal">
388. <br /></div>
389. <div class="MsoNormal">
390. 200m to go. Turn this last corner. Yes there it is. The
391. finish. I’m nearly there. Come on lets sprint. Funny Joke. Just get to the line
392. without crawling. Come on. </div>
393. <div class="MsoNormal">
394. <br /></div>
395. <div class="MsoNormal">
396. That’s it. It’s over. I’ve done it. I’ve really done it. Why
397. am I crying? I have no idea why i’m crying. So is the woman next to me. It’s
398. okay i’m not a complete weirdo. I’ve done it. All that training and pain is
399. over. I’ve just ran a marathon. I am the most amazing person in the world. Keep
400. walking. Don’t sit down you’ll never get back up. Goody bag. Too knackered to
401. look in it. Grab a bottle of lucozade out of it. Carry on shuffling forward. Baggage
402. bus. Naturally about 700 miles away from where I am now. Keep shuffling. </div>
403. <div class="MsoNormal">
404. <br /></div>
405. <div class="MsoNormal">
406. Can I have my bag please Mr bag bus man. Thanks. Right find
407. mum. Pull my phone out the bag. Message from Dad. He’s the proudest man in the
408. world. “You make me so proud whatever time you finish”. More tears. Everyone
409. here is smiling. I’ve got tears running down my face. What is wrong with me. Text
410. from Rich. Cue more tears. Overwhelmed by happiness and dare I say sadness that
411. it’s all over. No don’t be silly I’m glad it’s over.</div>
412. <div class="MsoNormal">
413. <br /></div>
414. <div class="MsoNormal">
415. There she is. Right where she said she would be. My mum.
416. Possibly the greatest woman in the world. Lots of hugs. More tears. She’s
417. telling me to smile. I still can’t stop crying. A few more hugs. It’s time to
418. sit down before my legs give way. This kerb just here looks comfy. Let me sit
419. down. Help me please mum. Stop taking photos. Yes I know I’m burnt. No i’m not
420. hungry yet. Just let me sit and stop crying. Oh here’s Jeff and Anna. More
421. congratulations. More hugs. They are eating. Mum I’m hungry now. Spotted the
422. M&S bag in her hand. Massive bag of crisps. What a brilliant woman. What
423. would I do without her. Let’s just sit here for a while and have a rest. Watch
424. the world go by. Runners being reunited with their families around me. This is
425. amazing. Everyone is so happy. I’m so happy. Hands down the best experience of
426. my life. Right mum lets go. I need more food. Jeff pull me up. Oh my god what
427. is this pain. Is this some kind of joke? I can’t walk. Still beaming from ear
428. to ear. Clutching my medal. Let’s go home now mum. I’m exhausted. Happy. But
429. exhausted. Best day of my life yet. It will take a lot to top this. </div>
430. <div class="MsoNormal">
431. <br /></div>
432. <div class="MsoNormal">
433. <br /></div>
434. <div class="MsoNormal">
435. And now the aches and pains have disappeared I am ready for
436. the next challenge. </div>
437. <div class="MsoNormal">
438. What’s next? I don’t know. Life starts outside of your
439. comfort zone.....</div>
440. <div class="MsoNormal">
441. Until next time.  </div>
442. <div class="MsoNormal">
443. <br /></div>
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470. &lt;/v:shape&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if !vml]--&gt;&lt;img align=&quot;left&quot; height=&quot;625&quot; hspace=&quot;12&quot; src=&quot;file:///C:/Users/Holly/AppData/Local/Temp/msohtmlclip1/01/clip_image002.jpg&quot; v:shapes=&quot;_x0000_s1026&quot; width=&quot;640&quot; /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=8028620199252440263' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/8028620199252440263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/8028620199252440263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2013/04/hollys-marathon-mental-battle.html' title='Holly&#39;s Marathon Mental Battle'/><author><name>Anonymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09827337207656752121</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-4923719227264649271</id><published>2013-04-07T18:32:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2013-04-07T18:32:55.808+01:00</updated><title type='text'>A Day Trip to Blackpool</title><content type='html'>&lt;span lang=&quot;&quot;&gt;&quot;Oh I do like to be beside the seaside..&quot; although I’ve never been in Blackpool at 8.15 on a Sunday morning in my life! The first shock was the 6.30 alarm – if the weather had been anything other than sunny and still I may have rethought my little jaunt to the coast. The second shock was the extortionate car park fee which I was totally unprepared for. I managed to scrape together the £5 &lt;i&gt;then&lt;/i&gt; found out the machine didn’t take £2 coins! A kindly soul in the queue whom I got chatting to helped me out with that little quandary thereby contributing to keeping me out of full flight panic mode.&lt;br /&gt;
471.  
472. <br />
473. A short jog to the football ground (a good warm-up) to collect my number, then a mad dash to the loo before that queue hit Disneyworld proportions and I was all ready with half an hour to spare. I spent it wisely. A few minutes stretching, but more time spent chatting to the couple that had a 9 month old Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever… I know now I have to go to Norfolk if I want one… So the morning was educational as well as athletic..<br />
474.  
475. <br />
476. I managed to get a "shout out" from the commentator with the microphone at the start for being an Eden Runner (see – doing my bit to promote the club!), then we were all set for the off. It’s the first time I’ve been to a race that had a 10 minute delay at the start due to a late running train.. One for the "experiences" list…<br />
477.  
478. <br />
479. Down a couple of side streets where a few hardy souls had gotten up to cheer all the runners on (or were just getting back to their B+Bs from last night) and out onto the front. Two and a half miles along the road was the first U-turn, just prior to which I saw the welcome face of Mr Dave Peacock, just when I thought I was the only Eden Runner, so that made me feel less lonely! Past the North Pier and onto the Prom where the job of over-taking people began in earnest… (honest!)… The sea was flat calm and there was not much breeze to stir the still cool air. At about Mile 5 I fell in behind a "Portsmouth Jogger" although whether it was his posterior I was transfixed by or the sheer number of energy gel packets he had on his belt bouncing up and down I’m not too sure. Far too many for one man… he could have shared… The other energy gel bar packet of note was the one that the gentleman at Mile 6 stomped on in front of me – showering me with the stuff. I did ask if those gels worked by osmosis too and if I’d get any energy from that… who knows… Could be a whole new line of scientific research there.<br />
480.  
481. <br />
482. I think the final u-turn was about Mile 8 which was a psychological relief, knowing that the countdown was on and that you were at least heading back in the right direction for the end. Going past the Marathon mile markers was a bit disconcerting though, thinking that half of the poor souls on the course would still have to do another loop. Seeing the string of people stretching out along the promenade and the road was impressive though and with about 3 miles to go and heading back into town the vocal support and the clapping members of the public began to increase, just when my resolve was starting to flag a little. Got past my bogey point of 11 ½ miles (The Dent Debacle) and oddly enough felt as though there were some reserves left to be had. My Portsmouth Jogger chaperone I think had peeled off to do the marathon route (so I’ll forgive him for his cornucopia of gel bars) and that almost gave me the incentive to push a bit harder. Why is it though, always the way, that when you think you’re approaching the finish you’re not?? You have that split second moment of thinking "I can see the start / finish line" before its replaced with the galling realisation that you’ve got another 600m to go in the <i>other direction</i> to suffer the humiliation of a "grandstand" finish behind the goalposts in front of an enthusiastic crowd? I resisted the temptation to wave at them… didn’t take much resisting… I think some of them had come to see the football in error…<br />
483.  
484. <br />
485. I reached the table which was devoid of medals "There’s some more of the way!" said the slightly panicked marshall as the queue of folk waiting started to bunch up behind me – there was no way I was leaving that stadium without one – I needed the physical proof of my slog! The goodie bag was quite good too, containing choc-chip cookies, mini malt loaf AND a Mars bar, bottle of water and another plastic water bottle (to add to the growing collection!)<br />
486.  
487. <br />
488. The bonus of the early start was getting home by 1pm to get showered and to get into the sunny back garden to write this. The weather was perfect for running, not too cold and not too hot – indeed it’s the first time this year any leg of mine above the knee has been exposed to the sunlight – the skin is that white I think the sunlight was just reflecting back off it! There was minimal breeze and minimal undulations in the route – I reckon I might even try that one again! <br />
489.  
490. <br />
491. At the time of going to press the toenails are still with me….stubborn devils… <br />
492. <br />
493. Race Review By Nicola Gaskell&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=4923719227264649271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/4923719227264649271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/4923719227264649271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-day-trip-to-blackpool.html' title='A Day Trip to Blackpool'/><author><name>john b</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05092626844275645993</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-6859769579472441187</id><published>2012-04-01T16:34:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2012-04-01T16:34:33.239+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The French Invasion of Lancaster</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;
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824. Against a low tide the French steamed up the River Lune
825. unbeknown to most of the local inhabitants on a calm, quiet and sunny Sunday
826. morning. The French then proceeded to destroy the Lune’s bridges before turning
827. back downstream to reap the bountiful rewards…
828.  
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830. Or something like that…</div>
831. <div class="MsoNormal">
832. Six Eden Runners ventured out into God’s Own County Palatine
833. of Lancashire to the Lancaster Three Bridges race, and it turned out to be one
834. doozy of a day with an impressive clutch of five (possibly 6 when we get in
835. touch with Larry again!) personal bests, wrested from this flat and fast
836. course!</div>
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838. It is well sited and utilises a lot of cycle-ways and riverside
839. footpaths that afford a slightly scenic setting along with plenty shade – I wasn’t
840. expecting it to be so sunny – so those trees came in handy!</div>
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842. Paul had kindly driven Tanya, Wade and myself down the M6
843. and the in-flight chatter was such that the journey passed in a jiffy. We met
844. up with Larry Horne (new ER member) and the man of the moment Johnny French
845. before the start, which nearly ended in a hokey-cokey or Auld Lang’s Syne type
846. scenario as we all tried to shake hands at the same time, then after the
847. countdown the green and blue and black sock-ed<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> 
848. </span>blur set off and the rest of the pack followed, as they did for the
849. remainder of the whole 10k – INCLUDING at one point the official race route
850. finder who Johnny passed as he carried his bike up the steps at the bridge – so
851. not only race leader but trail blazer too!</div>
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853. Whether it was the flat course or the sparse pack I did
854. manage to keep the shirts of Wade, Paul and Tanya in view – so that feels like an
855. improvement on my part!</div>
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857. The steps up the bridge were a unique experience for me, and
858. they slowed most of the competitors to a crawl, but fortunately I didn’t heed
859. Wades pre-race ‘advice’ of “because there were trips and falls in the race last
860. year the organisers have requested that everyone does the steps backwards…”</div>
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862. Think of the date folks……</div>
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864. The course was well signed and marshalled throughout, which
865. is just as well as it was on public highways and by-ways there were quite a few
866. cyclists, walkers and Sunday morning anglers to be dodged! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the low point (well, hardest point, not
867. low) was the steps at the bridge then the hallelujah moment came when two
868. marshalls at the 6 mile point helpfully shouted out the times on their stop watches.
869. It was just the spur that a flagging-pb hunting runner required before the end –
870. the gap through the trees to the Salt Aire running track allowed me to realise
871. that there was not going to be the final 400m dash lap – but that it was barely
872. a 100m sprint to the finish which necessitated dredging up the reserves to get
873. under the post under the 48 minute mark! After I was handed a medal by a
874. slightly confused young lass (child labour? Get Wade on the case!) it was only
875. then when we all swapped notes that it dawned that the day <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> belonged to Eden. With Johnny storming home at 34.15 – a clear
876. 43 seconds of the next man, Larry at 44.20, Wade at 45.27, Paul 46.31, Tanya
877. 46.47 (10<sup>th</sup> lady overall and first female Vet 35 –I have her pink
878. cava in my possession to prove it!) and me bringing up the rear (least said
879. soonest mended..) at 47.57 it is suffice to say we were all a fair bit chuffed
880. with ourselves and made it known by being the chief rabble rousers at the
881. awards ceremony! Johnny and Tanya got to exercise their skills in nonchalance when
882. picking up their loot (too cool by far!) while we cheered and applauded, then
883. apologised to the poor woman we nearly deafened with our exuberance!</div>
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885. Will I be back next year? Course I will… if only to ensure
886. that next time I bound up those flippin steps rather than dragging myself up
887. them cursing.. Everyone needs a nemesis to beat!....</div>
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889. Next (official) stop – Langdale, see you there! &lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;:)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=6859769579472441187' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6859769579472441187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6859769579472441187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2012/04/french-invasion-of-lancaster.html' title='The French Invasion of Lancaster'/><author><name>Nicola G</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05965542025361303991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-7637177958061850606</id><published>2012-03-25T20:07:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2012-03-25T20:07:56.370+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The start of things to come?</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;
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1216.  
1217. <br />
1218.  
1219.  
1220. <div class="MsoNormal">
1221. Is this truly spring now? Only a few weeks ago I was wearing
1222. my thermals and handing out ice cold water to equally ice old runners on the
1223. Haweswater half, todays foray into the world meant 18 degree temperatures and
1224. not a cloud in the sky, short shorts and vests were de rigeur for the inaugural
1225. Lorton 10k.</div>
1226. <div class="MsoNormal">
1227. On our arrival the first thing to greet us was the fantastic
1228. surrounding views with a stunning blue sky backdrop. Eden shirts kept appearing
1229. in ones and twos until there was a nice cohesive little group of us 8
1230. strong<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>at the start (Christine felt the
1231. need to add extra pressure to her day by arriving late and running to and
1232. through the start line!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>As this run was
1233. an unknown quantity being a new addition to the calendar there were a few
1234. uncertainties and discrepancies in each persons understanding of how
1235. “undulating” it was going to be. In hindsight I would ban “undulating” from the
1236. vocabulary list and just go for honest and simple “bloody hilly”..<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>Hands were shaken and ‘good lucks’ proffered
1237. before the school bell rang (I had to resist the urge to “get in line” at the
1238. sound of that), then off we set into our first hill. Well it felt that way
1239. anyway. Friendly smiling (amused?) faces of the local residents lined the way
1240. and as the huddle thinned out I started to realise that there was little shade
1241. in which to hide from the strong sun, coupled with a minimal breeze it became
1242. apparent that a PB was not going to be achieved this day! Better then to enjoy
1243. the scenery, the roadside flowers, the hills, the lambs in the field, the
1244. hills, the blue sky, the hills….. I swear they all went upwards, I thought at
1245. one point we were going to just strike out onto the fells above!! Perhaps I
1246. exaggerate – perhaps it was the shock of the blessedly good weather and the
1247. fact that our winter training thus far has been in the dark, so basically you
1248. couldn’t always see what was ahead. In Lorton you could. It was another hill.
1249. Ok – maybe I’ve gone over the top with the hill thing (although after the
1250. bridge at the turnaround point when faced with yet another beast I did wonder
1251. if “over the top” was ever going to be achieved! ….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>Right you are – I’ll desist pressing that
1252. point…</div>
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1254. Reasonably quiet roads meant that there were not too many
1255. distractions from traffic and most of the run was unhindered, but the heat was
1256. a novelty that soon wore off and at the 7k mark I’ll admit to my resolve
1257. wavering just a little, and I struggled to find the reserves for a sprint
1258. finish, as the gravel area we crossed prior to the grass field ending almost
1259. took me off my feet, but a good crowd at the post spurring people on (I could
1260. hear Paul and Wade shouting) helped me to push on – and there was never a
1261. sweeter sugary drink passed by a Lorton schoolchild given!</div>
1262. <div class="MsoNormal">
1263. Everyone finished without injury which is always good and
1264. after the well needed cups of water the breakdown was as follows. Ruth (who by
1265. the way had a great run to finish as second lady overall!) headed off with her
1266. clutch of children, Christine likewise wither family, Gill and Shaun had ideas
1267. to go shopping in Keswick, while Stuart and Kevin headed out to do the course <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">again!!</i> (gluttons for punishment), Wade
1268. eagerly made his way for cake and jacket potato (I still believe he has hollow
1269. legs!) while Paul and I hung around in the (vain) hope of a spot prize. Paul
1270. did manage to acquire a voucher for some socks – you have to make the most of
1271. life’s opportunities!</div>
1272. <div class="MsoNormal">
1273. It was nice for Eden to gain a mention in the thank you
1274. speeches (alongside Derwent and Keswick) for adding this race to our
1275. championship list and it is a good challenging course, although I reckon next
1276. year it will be under snow! Which makes me think, the last blog I wrote was
1277. while watching a snow shower prior to Christmas, but today I’m basking on the
1278. patio, eating my ice cream, listening to the birds and admiring the
1279. emerging<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">  </span>garden, with its new starts,
1280. new life and new energy – a good maxim perhaps for the now underway summer
1281. championship season – so whichever race you’ve got lined up next <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– Go Eden! <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span>
1282. (Then write about it afterwards!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=7637177958061850606' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/7637177958061850606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/7637177958061850606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2012/03/start-of-things-to-come.html' title='The start of things to come?'/><author><name>Nicola G</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05965542025361303991</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-7532021773649652465</id><published>2011-12-17T14:00:00.002+00:00</published><updated>2011-12-17T14:17:40.658+00:00</updated><title type='text'>WADE TIDBURY- MY FAVOURITE GAL !</title><content type='html'>Well, as the song goes: &quot;ooh what a night&quot;!  Last night at the ER&#39;s Christmas party at the Roundthorn Mr Wade Tidbury was elected ( browbeaten) as our Pantomime dame for the night.  The Heaviside girls (with a bit of help) quickly transformed him from a, lets be honest, reasonable looking sort of bloke, into what I can only call the SEXIEST PANTOMIME WIDOW TWANKEY THAT I HAVE EVER SET EYES ON!  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You may think I&#39;m exaggerating, but you would know if you had been there.  Fromthe pout of his &#39;rosebud&#39; lips to the tips of his sprout sized nipples ( we know this to be true, as they really were sprouts sellotaped onto his giant boobies (balloons)), he became a real head turner.  When he sat on my knee, I was almost overcome with desire( desire for him to get off me actually as hes a heavier lad, sorry lass, than he looks!) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I hope somewhere there will be pictures of this vision of beauty.  Forget Botox, nips and tucks, all you need ladies ( and, sadly, gentlemen) is two balloons, some vegetables, bits of decorations, a belt or two! A bit of makeup and lippy and a few willing helpers, to transform you into the &#39;woman you never kne you were&#39;! It worked for Wade..........&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Thanks for the memories lovergirl XX&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=7532021773649652465' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/7532021773649652465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/7532021773649652465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2011/12/wade-tidbury-my-favourite-gal.html' title='WADE TIDBURY- MY FAVOURITE GAL !'/><author><name>Andy S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05986204418985453142</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-3412634663318559010</id><published>2011-12-04T19:22:00.006+00:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T19:36:18.886+00:00</updated><title type='text'>Windmills and Pies – or – “Wade’s grand adventure”.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Penrith Rugby Club, 8am wet and windy on a Sunday morning, what better way to end the weekend than a trip down south to sunny Ulverston? Well, it would have been an 8am start if Wade h&lt;a name=&quot;_GoBack&quot;&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ad not had to endure the worst the weather could have thrown at Kirkoswald not an hour before and skating vehicles sans driver…Enough to prepare anyone’s heart rate for a 10k run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So those of us with nothing better to do on a Sunday morning in December (like putting up decorations, buying trees or replacing tiny light bulbs) piled into the new “team bus” (Mike B, Paul S and myself) and discussed what comes naturally – our desired times from the days excursion. Wade had other things on his mind – namely new team colours (I think hot pink was the favourite) combined with a local sponsor.. All suggestions were food orientated, from Cranstons to Greggs and finishing with Town Head Chippy “We eat chips and we’re still in front of you” a good motivator for every other club runner if ever there was one… Even the sights of the wind turbines in full flow alongside the motorway couldn’t distract him from his creative leanings. I think the poor lad is hungry..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Arriving in Ulverston, after a slight detour or two to locate the sports centre, and fabulously early, we met Kevin W, who had taken a more scenic route through the Lakes and was not hampered by the snow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The wind was always going to be a factor on this flat, almost coastal route – well, after the Krypton Factor experience Paul had in attempting (3 attempts) to get his vest on correctly prior to starting.. yet amazingly the rain held off for the duration of the run. 50m after the start I waved goodbye to Mike’s, Paul’s and Wade’s disappearing backs and attempted to settle into a rhythm while aiming to pick off some of the competition. The competition obviously had other ideas, namely being to finish quicker than me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well marshalled through the temporary road works and even into Ulverston Priory grounds (where a glimpse of the Buddhist temple could be had), the route threw up no real surprises or difficult areas and in slightly better weather conditions is definitely a route for PB claiming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were not going too badly until mile 5 when a stitch hit, which I blame for eventually being 12 seconds over my aimed for time, not even a sprint finish (no elbows) could redeem it! Shouted in by Mike, Paul and Wade helped though, and I barely had time to pick up my free xmas pud and turn around before we all then cheered Kevin into the finish, a decent effort by all involved, especially by Mike who had just done 10 miles the previous day (his idea of a good warm up for a 10k?). Charlie Lowther left us all standing, being far too efficient in the scheme of things, but putting an Eden Runner in the top 20.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some good soup from the Hoad Hill supporters and pudding to take home made a worthwhile trip, home and showered now, and as I write this it’s starting to snow… Lovely… Here’s to Christmas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Words by Nicola G &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=3412634663318559010' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3412634663318559010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3412634663318559010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2011/12/windmills-and-pies-or-wades-grand.html' title='Windmills and Pies – or – “Wade’s grand adventure”.'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-8294644083818576151</id><published>2011-04-05T13:31:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2011-04-05T13:31:44.513+01:00</updated><title type='text'>BHF Quiz Night - WOW!!!</title><content type='html'>The much awaited BHF Quiz organised by the Paris Bike Ride team took place last Friday at PRUFC and what a night it turned out to be:&lt;br /&gt;
1283. <br />
1284. Nearly 100 people and 18 teams took part;<br />
1285. Over £460 was raised which hopefully will be fully matched by our sponsors Barclays Bank;<br />
1286. Over £100 was raised from the raffle alone.<br />
1287. <br />
1288. Thanks to everyone who bought tickets and purchased raffle tickets and a special thank you to those people who contributed some fantastic cakes, pottery and booze!<br />
1289. <br />
1290. The night started with a mjor headache 'how do we fit everyone in?' the answer was with great difficulty, but we managed - just!<br />
1291. <br />
1292. Tony was a first rate quizmaster with endless patience and it finished with 2 eden runner-based teams taking 1st and 2nd (who said runners are thick, certainly not me).<br />
1293. <br />
1294. There was some controversy when the answer to what is the French for bicycle was given as le velo rather than bicyclette; this raised the comment from one of the 'Friday Night Girls' "that it was bicyclette when I was at school" which provoked a response from the Saagermeister that "that was a long time ago", which provoked an equally cutting response of "have you looked in the mirrow lately" - all good fun and thanks again.<br />
1295. <br />
1296. Dave P&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=8294644083818576151' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/8294644083818576151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/8294644083818576151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2011/04/bhf-quiz-night-wow.html' title='BHF Quiz Night - WOW!!!'/><author><name>Dave Peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08008064386591860393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-5655856757828204232</id><published>2011-03-31T21:23:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2011-03-31T21:46:27.009+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Tick tick tick tick........................boom!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Trial by Stopwatch &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b-hvjUc8CgAHcMIjza284kEs1TieMfbb5ZGG-eH-fC1QsVN4TsWkF2lM6AVx6Sb10xirr6UxDnUrMs7vV_b6-Fh4F1sZddrOm34wkRnHgaAOyc-jp-GRMy7ornxpuWSYOzt4EC1yPCU/s1600/Time+Trial+2011-03-30.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590345497720898962&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b-hvjUc8CgAHcMIjza284kEs1TieMfbb5ZGG-eH-fC1QsVN4TsWkF2lM6AVx6Sb10xirr6UxDnUrMs7vV_b6-Fh4F1sZddrOm34wkRnHgaAOyc-jp-GRMy7ornxpuWSYOzt4EC1yPCU/s400/Time+Trial+2011-03-30.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Wed 30 March 2011&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;7pm, somewhere in Northern England. At the warm-up, there was more discussion about food than there was about running. I think that’s natural, as no-one wants to talk about a time trial beforehand. The thought is too painful. We all just want it to be over, no-one cares what time they might get. It’s only 1.75 miles - too far to sprint but too short to relax within. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Debutants Karl Allen, Mark Burns-Cassell and Emily Heaviside should be pleased with their results. Incredibly, Paul Saager achieved his fastest time since records began in Oct 2003, with 11:15. Proof that being a Middlesbrough FC supporter need not be the kiss of death it is generally believed to be, and reward for a winter of diligent training. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;And equally incredibly, Gill DSD also achieved a lifetime best with 13:17. Proof that being married to Andy has not led to a fatal tailspin in her running career as some feared. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Perhaps not quite so incredibly, Gill’s husband Andy got down off his chair to surpass his own previous best with 11:55. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Other PBs on the night – well done to Chris &amp;amp; Vicky Boyd, to the up &amp;amp; coming Shaun Graham, to John Nicholson, Steve Patterson, to the dark destroyer Kev Scott, and finally to Angela Watson. Angela capped a good few days after demolishing her 2010 time at Grizedale on Sunday by a full 9 minutes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;There were one or two PWs (no names of course), but all would be able to cite mitigating circumstances I’m sure.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Poignant moment of the evening – Sally Spence decided not to run, having been the only ‘ever-present’ at this club event to date. So her run of 14 consecutive TTs stops there – who can hope to beat that? Instead, she was Chief Name-Taker on the night, and I have to say her written results were easily the neatest I have had to transcribe in living memory. Well done Sally.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Thanks also to Mr Andrew Bell (Starter), Kevin Whitemore (Security), and Dave Peacock (Rabble-Rouser and Chief Heckler). Never have so many owed so much to etc etc... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;So, did the winter training work? Or were a lot of people just trying harder this time? You decide....... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=5655856757828204232' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/5655856757828204232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/5655856757828204232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2011/03/tick-tick-tick-tickboom.html' title='Tick tick tick tick........................boom!'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5b-hvjUc8CgAHcMIjza284kEs1TieMfbb5ZGG-eH-fC1QsVN4TsWkF2lM6AVx6Sb10xirr6UxDnUrMs7vV_b6-Fh4F1sZddrOm34wkRnHgaAOyc-jp-GRMy7ornxpuWSYOzt4EC1yPCU/s72-c/Time+Trial+2011-03-30.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-1216362304355544604</id><published>2011-03-25T13:25:00.000+00:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T13:25:50.032+00:00</updated><title type='text'>BHF London to Paris Bike Ride</title><content type='html'>In May 2008&amp;nbsp;soon after the finish of the Golden Globe 5k I suffered toothache or at least I thought&amp;nbsp; it was toothache; it was in fact a heart attack! I was fortunate and I survived thanks in part to Kevin Whitemore who drove me the short but vital 1/2 mile to the Penrith Emergency unit, after we arrived back at PRUFC car park.&lt;br /&gt;
1297. <br />
1298. After recovering from the shock of the heart attack I realised from speaking to friends and family, many of whom are in Eden Runners that nobody knew that a pain across the jaw was the sign of an impending heart attack. And this is where the British Heart Foundation comes in, as their literature provides such life saving knowledge as well as providing vital guidance in the debilitating days and weeks following the attack. <br />
1299. <br />
1300. I decided therefore that in the run up to my 50th birthday that I would try and raise some money to help ensure in a small way that the BHF can carry on providing their vital charitable work. Enter the London to Paris Bike Ride 300km's over 3 days from the 2nd July!<br />
1301. <br />
1302. I was able to form a team of 4 thanks to Wacker, Tony and Julia and the support of a mate Ian (to drive the support vehicle) and my wife Diane (to provide sort out navigation, logistics and fund raising).<br />
1303. <br />
1304. In totoal we need to raise £1,000 (£250 each) with all money raised going directly to BHF (all costs are met by us). Our first fund raising event is a Quiz at PRUFC on the 1st April, £6 a ticket from Tony Lowery with pie and pies thrown in (not literally hopefully).<br />
1305. <br />
1306. Although there are in effect 4 people undertaking the Bike Ride (with 2 supporters) we will not achieve the most important part the fundraising without your support, I hope that this blog will keep you up to date with our challenges along the way.<br />
1307. <br />
1308. If you would like to contribute on our Just Giving page (thanks to Ian Horne and Alan Marshall for generous donations already) you can do so at <a href="http://original.justgiving.com/tonylowery2">http://original.justgiving.com/tonylowery2</a><br />
1309. <br />
1310. Thanks<br />
1311. Dave P&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=1216362304355544604' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/1216362304355544604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/1216362304355544604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2011/03/bhf-london-to-paris-bike-ride.html' title='BHF London to Paris Bike Ride'/><author><name>Dave Peacock</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08008064386591860393</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-2725636195810744421</id><published>2010-11-24T18:26:00.002+00:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T18:45:56.492+00:00</updated><title type='text'>DRAGGED OUT BY THE D-S-D</title><content type='html'>It seems a long time ago that I blogged about the quality chips at Brampton pub, and now winter&#39;s here and what do I get? Dragged from my bed at the crack of dawn ( 9 o&#39;clock ) by the DSD and taken down to Rosthwaite to recreate half of a Long Distance Walkers event!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be grateful it was last weekend, we had sunshine, snow showers and mostly rain, unlike now when its bloody freezing cold too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up onto the fells south of Dock Tarn, down into Watendlath, past Walla Crag and back via the Lake shore, Grange and below Castle Crag back to Rosthwaite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The food wasn&#39;t as good as the above mentioned chips, consisting of two small bags of Co-Op (a blatant advertisement) Cheese n Onion crisps and some jelly babies, washed down with some increasingly cold blackcurrant juice....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about 15 miles all told, in some of the most beautiful scenery in the world (probably), and being low level, even my navigationally challenged companion could manage &#39; going, keep the Lake on your left, and coming back keep it on your right!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only bummer to the whole day (and yes, as with most things that hack off this Yorkshireman, it has to do with money) was the blunder I made with the parking. We parked in the National Trust car park, and paid &lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;£6 &lt;/span&gt;for all day parking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only when we returned to the car and were about to leave did I glance at the sign on the wall of the adjoining (as in right next door!) village Hall &lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt; &#39;&#39;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;PARKING ALL DAY £2:50&#39;&#39;&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can only imagine how long I sat in the car fuming to myself on the journey home.....................&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=2725636195810744421' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/2725636195810744421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/2725636195810744421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/11/dragged-out-by-d-s-d.html' title='DRAGGED OUT BY THE D-S-D'/><author><name>Andy S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05986204418985453142</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-435626713832663746</id><published>2010-08-05T08:46:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T09:21:35.204+01:00</updated><title type='text'>BEST CHIPS EVER ! ?</title><content type='html'>Its been a while since I blogged, but last nights chips at the NEW INN, BRAMPTON, APPLEBY (that&#39;s a plug!) demanded that I write about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to chip related &#39;difficulties&#39; with the pub at Dufton in the past we convened at the New Inn, having agreed beforehand that we&#39;d phone in the chip order (13 portions for those with a nose for detail) we were served by a Heston Blumenthal lookalike chef who provided three trays of the best chips we have ever had! Plus, as much mayo and tomato sauce as we could wish for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The chips were hot, fresh from the pan, beautifully brown, crisp, firm, yet soft and moist in all the right places, and enough for everyone to have about three bowlfuls each (bad move of the night from &#39;big&#39; Miles who ordered two portions and had to pay for two, but got no more than the rest of us!).  Price: a &lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;very&lt;/span&gt; reasonable indeed £2:00 per person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We will certainly be back!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and the run, which is, after all, the reason for our night out - beautiful clear views from the top of Dufton Pike round the whole county, a thunderous run down the ridge and back in time for a luxurious &#39;one flask&#39; shower in the public toilets!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;Breaking news&lt;/span&gt;:  The proposed new Eden runners based rock band project continues apace - planning and auditions  continued in the New Inn -Wacker is to be tour manager/ post gig party organiser;  new additions to the line up continue with the discoveries that (a) Miles is a multi talented instrumentalist, (b) Tony and Martin are Eden Runners answer to Renee and Renata/Peters and Lee/Roger Whittaker and Des O&#39;Connor/ two of the four Temptations - the list of options goes on, the door of opportunity opens for these two, (c) Mary, Sally and Mrs DSD to be backing (note to Mrs DSD, &lt;span style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;backing&lt;/span&gt; singers means just that- you stay in the background, letting the main men take centre stage) singers, also with options to provide musical pottery/musical bakery &#39;live&#39; on stage at the &#39;gigs&#39;. We can also announce a new lead vocalist - &#39;Big&#39; Paul who wowed us with his Vic Reeves pub singer routines last night. The existing line up - Alan &#39;the Modster&#39; Marshall: Lead guitar; &#39;Deadly&#39; Dave Peacock: Vocals/guitar and Andy &#39;Bloody Finger&#39; Sharples: rhythm guitar,  can rest assured that the plan slowly comes together -look out for the &#39;debut gig&#39; announcements in a local comic near you!&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=435626713832663746' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/435626713832663746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/435626713832663746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/08/best-chips-ever.html' title='BEST CHIPS EVER ! ?'/><author><name>Andy S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05986204418985453142</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-6670650388992195257</id><published>2010-07-21T13:45:00.015+01:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T15:23:17.171+01:00</updated><title type='text'>It&#39;s Not All Bad in the North East</title><content type='html'>(or - Gill DSD does &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; bit for the Northumbria Tourist Board)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Northumberland Coastal Run, Sunday 18th July 2010&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0Er97G9SQ2rTGQxALtJTv2Ci9uCtpJW5K6KxVdVoI4SWtcuvMooinUb8zKkRBJbTyCaEjpNIOjZTj-Py88pz2Pp_JctBu5ubTbE8VRWqeSuf3VjLvdANxKoES8fKomxGbjOmdGeDFMQ/s1600/P1010653.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496363389081907266&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0Er97G9SQ2rTGQxALtJTv2Ci9uCtpJW5K6KxVdVoI4SWtcuvMooinUb8zKkRBJbTyCaEjpNIOjZTj-Py88pz2Pp_JctBu5ubTbE8VRWqeSuf3VjLvdANxKoES8fKomxGbjOmdGeDFMQ/s400/P1010653.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;Do you prefer &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; view? or...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZGtcIYtYFA4JncWjYpg_ZMmMjsMDpQe3uHWrRmvATo4QSJt52JBaHHqTQnp8bijhGyhh_WLvaERBRSsG69QSCbUwqHKTLy9OMIOaBOrECef93DzKNigDtbJsmJRwNdjD9-2X_RNNKSZo/s1600/P1010652.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496361896147699090&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZGtcIYtYFA4JncWjYpg_ZMmMjsMDpQe3uHWrRmvATo4QSJt52JBaHHqTQnp8bijhGyhh_WLvaERBRSsG69QSCbUwqHKTLy9OMIOaBOrECef93DzKNigDtbJsmJRwNdjD9-2X_RNNKSZo/s400/P1010652.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;..&lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt; view? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496347232739042162&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6T7kS4iTCGGgwDF4ME24f1SLQAMGhjlrwLcRHcCfJupZbw9XNQKh57xDdBRW0U2Qb9EiGINv11nsA8Jj1EQFeVt4Zd3fbHBSLWzbtpbF89IwAkfPvH1nex-SeUIdPZmyiokBlrC6sUcY/s400/P1010656.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving home, I said to Paul &amp;amp; Tony that I hadn’t yet found an angle to use for the blog. Tony came up with the good points/bad points idea. Of course, I rejected it immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuGgvhR7jsG2XQCuo8twjH9BjDm-b6MKXWnTeIWwTJxWT-34iIFSjFRr5qZ-498xFN6p0Iy6-XFY7xLHTkblpricrphC96uRfocH9MxATgAhXMCrazSHxMqE10Y-KSzdi9RP1l58HKI0/s1600/P1010657.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496356420329496306&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuGgvhR7jsG2XQCuo8twjH9BjDm-b6MKXWnTeIWwTJxWT-34iIFSjFRr5qZ-498xFN6p0Iy6-XFY7xLHTkblpricrphC96uRfocH9MxATgAhXMCrazSHxMqE10Y-KSzdi9RP1l58HKI0/s400/P1010657.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496349635683341378&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbHa1qAws9kQootRI0hC_SQKbT0CU0srYBFq2imG5nSzo09KtYF1o4W7uEaIpXe836qJjGw5M4a6cDHM3KicusVSSeiIkWJV-dGt3op8LMOHvkepbREb0kHkIZCNLwLueh3bljpLdcUM/s400/P1010659.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things to remember…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beadnell, being paced by a kite-surfer skimming the waves a few yards to the left.&lt;br /&gt;Beadnell, running past the roped-off tern colony and having to jump the rope at the end.&lt;br /&gt;Beadnell, having to decide whether to cut some distance by running/wading through the sea or staying right to ford the river. Choosing the longer route, still having the water above knee height.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvMl_VH0klk3lrG7fwhS_SNyIwB0xuee3RocQlanEmu7mekEbL096AEXiZjlYVA6r8waHa8TcEQJnrPxHvY4NPqu4ivf3iOGzmJaJe_fF8BlP0lN08AFSQAivqZ3vOrRjc3IKmxai_Jk/s1600/P1010655.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 399px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496354822705076866&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuvMl_VH0klk3lrG7fwhS_SNyIwB0xuee3RocQlanEmu7mekEbL096AEXiZjlYVA6r8waHa8TcEQJnrPxHvY4NPqu4ivf3iOGzmJaJe_fF8BlP0lN08AFSQAivqZ3vOrRjc3IKmxai_Jk/s400/P1010655.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Dunstanburgh, the trail/path section. And kittiwakes.&lt;br /&gt;Craster, running down the dip. Lindy Lou!&lt;br /&gt;The cliff-top trail section after Craster. I love trail running….&lt;br /&gt;The next road bit because you could find a rhythm. Not a particularly quick rhythm, but a rhythm nevertheless.&lt;br /&gt;The drinks stations. Isn’t water fantastic stuff?&lt;br /&gt;Reaching the finish.&lt;br /&gt;Taking off my socks &amp;amp; shoes &amp;amp; going for a ‘plodge’ afterwards. Like being 7 again.&lt;br /&gt;Julia appearing at last. Her hilarious explanation of her (late) arrival at the start on her bike. I’m still laughing now.&lt;br /&gt;Watching each Eden Runner home, in particular…&lt;br /&gt;- Fantastic finish by Gill DSD.&lt;br /&gt;- Kevin trying to sneak in on an alternative finish route.&lt;br /&gt;- Matt’s battle to the line, injured.&lt;br /&gt;- Sally, eventually.&lt;br /&gt;Paul’s home–made granola bar. Magic.&lt;br /&gt;Discovering that Tony doesn’t really like scones. Or dried apricots. Or most tv adverts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVolT2bdtz-S0_rlYxPc01439Bi5_mgeqPwrBsfOf1js6clKNMQMEFknXP9Pipqwx6oFBzI794Qi3a7kCpAyEenWUMFZuOXnfw44jTaa4jtbL79qPbPrL6TwZg7-z83YYVBgoCBQuivHI/s1600/P1010658.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496362660331886274&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVolT2bdtz-S0_rlYxPc01439Bi5_mgeqPwrBsfOf1js6clKNMQMEFknXP9Pipqwx6oFBzI794Qi3a7kCpAyEenWUMFZuOXnfw44jTaa4jtbL79qPbPrL6TwZg7-z83YYVBgoCBQuivHI/s400/P1010658.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things to forget…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too much headwind.&lt;br /&gt;Losing 20 places from Dunstanburgh onwards, only gaining 6 places back&lt;br /&gt;Having nothing left to work with on the last beach section. For info, 1.65miles of it.&lt;br /&gt;The Courtyard Café being closed…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbKt71Z5BUHvuq_A98LYJbP5jDmlMmxPFtDXFVecoY7rm_g0lvAerQqzuNYQ3HeAiBvXf8AhXlvwWGQktiS6b1eK_lPuqZ2a_9s8CgpCZSDlOiFND7VZbIOxlsVGiAMdf8Dkto1n9Oqo/s1600/P1010660.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496361059661183506&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbKt71Z5BUHvuq_A98LYJbP5jDmlMmxPFtDXFVecoY7rm_g0lvAerQqzuNYQ3HeAiBvXf8AhXlvwWGQktiS6b1eK_lPuqZ2a_9s8CgpCZSDlOiFND7VZbIOxlsVGiAMdf8Dkto1n9Oqo/s400/P1010660.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have thought of far more good points than bad points. Feel free to add your own..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to all our brilliant Eden Runners ….erm, runners. What a club we have here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=6670650388992195257' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6670650388992195257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6670650388992195257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/07/its-not-all-bad-in-north-east.html' title='It&#39;s Not All Bad in the North East'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz0Er97G9SQ2rTGQxALtJTv2Ci9uCtpJW5K6KxVdVoI4SWtcuvMooinUb8zKkRBJbTyCaEjpNIOjZTj-Py88pz2Pp_JctBu5ubTbE8VRWqeSuf3VjLvdANxKoES8fKomxGbjOmdGeDFMQ/s72-c/P1010653.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-6973371196950038759</id><published>2010-07-07T13:29:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T15:48:56.799+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Transformer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491167460500412690&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpgWUHY3QEqmK5zYiiztB5e2YM6QEq1pZXAiTpGOrGsul9DahRqBm45XPv4Sxow5JNOCNOSNyHZD4hJcINfxApbeJfHPdj3li20SsmgJFJzNjmbu13fTKj8BNqncNva8PaoJXjej-2vQ/s400/ICI.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Redcar Half-Marathon Sunday 13 June 2010.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am leaving the scenic Lake District and driving towards the land of the chemical plant, Teesside. Worse, it’s pouring with rain, one of those days when you can’t see where land meets sky. Everything is grey, grey, grey. Worse still, I know that when I reach Redcar, I will have to race 13.1 miles, in the rain. And, I had thought I’d be travelling with fellow ER Mike, but he’d had to withdraw at the last minute, not feeling well. On top of all that, England had kicked off their 2010 World Cup campaign last night in rather miserable fashion, failing to beat the USA. Surely, things would have to get better……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that the race start and finish (and the route, come to that) have been changed since the 2009 race, which was in April. This time, we&#39;re here in the middle of June, so the Redcar Half Marathon is undergoing an almost total transformation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, somewhat downcast and with expectations hovering just above the ground, I drive into Redcar and follow the race park &amp;amp; ride signage, eventually reaching the racecourse carpark in still-torrential rain. Two bedraggled marshals in yellow binliners direct me to park next to another 7 or 8 cars huddled in the vast emptiness of the puddly tarmac. I sit there for several moments, seriously considering whether to drive straight back home. No. I get out, get my bag, and walk as briskly as I can towards the waiting bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are 4 of us on the bus. And that includes the driver. The wheels on the bus go round and round, splashing through the streets of Redcar, until at journey’s end we are all told to get off. Basically, we’re in a housing estate in the pouring rain, with no indication whatsoever of where the race start may be. Until someone thoughtfully asks the driver just as he speeds off, and it transpires we just have to go round that corner. We do that, and here we are on a large field extending across to the coast road and the sand-dunes. Behind that is a huge grey expanse. It’s either the sky or the sea, or both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A large white marquee houses the baggage area. It’s so early that it’s virtually empty, so I find a seat and sit huddled in my coat and sulk, looking at the rainwater teeming off the roof onto the sodden grass. In this way, I while away half an hour or so, watching sandmartins skimming the turf, dodging the increasing numbers of runners frowning their way across the field. Why do we all frown when we have to go out in the rain? What purpose does the frown serve? I conclude, after extensive testing, that it is to lower our eyebrows so as to reduce the likelihood of water ingress to the eyes. See, every day’s a school day, kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, it’s time to warm up now. I get onto the tarmac and find that the race announcer is singling anyone with a visible race number out for special treatment. I quickly try to cover mine up but too late. ‘Number 472 is Alan Marshall from Eden Runners, welcome Alan from the people of Redcar!’ A surprisingly loud cheer goes up from the crowd. Eh? He soon picks on someone else but my attention shifts as I notice the rain has stopped and the clouds are beginning to break. It’s suddenly become perfect weather for running - cool, damp underfoot, a light crosswind. After the usual pre-race formalities (sponsors mentioned, organisers thanked, stupid running-related metaphor-based attempts at humour, etc) we are underway to the sound of Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band and ‘Jungleland’ – possibly the best piece of music ever, bar none.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We head south towards Marske, and mile one is reached with minimal effort and at a good pace, whereupon we turn round and head north up the coast back towards Redcar. To my right the sun glints off the deep blue of the North Sea as a flotilla of colourful yachts race south. Swallows and sandmartins swoop and dive across the grass and dunes. Mile 2 and I continue to steadily move up through the field, feeling really comfortable. I go through the start/finish gantry again where music is still playing, this time it’s the impeccable ‘Higher Ground’ by Stevie Wonder. This really is a first - a race with musical taste. Mile 3, into Redcar where the interesting seafront streets are festooned with flowers and packed with enthusiastic spectators. To my right, a beach volleyball match is in full swing. As I run past, the Brazilian Ladies Team lead Coatham Cruisers 6-5 in the 3rd. What a sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first drinks station is themed (each one has a different &lt;em&gt;ambience&lt;/em&gt;) around Raiders of The Lost Ark. The idea here is that you don’t have to stop, but you point to a particular person (all in character) as you approach, who then breaks off and runs alongside you with a range of refreshments for you to choose from. I ask Indiana Jones (sorry, Harrison Ford) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 282px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491167680956808242&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha68IqoXy0T8N-3HLmtI4H8S7ZTwQz7rEfnGztT7EAr8Js19CUmvZyyDy_5KgdivKXqQwiShyphenhyphenoIi7QmcdiN0fXq_ieqgFT2l99DUKBkJcw2MaroMfHuBUpoeayI1atnTa9i7v5dICmJTo/s400/indiana-jones.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;for a water, please, which is instantly given to me in a small bottle with the top already removed. It’s the little things that count. I take three or four mouthfuls and then Indy takes the bottle, offers me a white towel to wipe my face and asks if I want anything else. He has energy gels, jelly cubes, squares of chocolate (dairy milk and dark), a full Victoria Cream Sponge on a tray, and a bullwhip. I decline, and press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say that the atmosphere on the course is tremendous. I have apparently been assigned a support team who move silently along beside me in a kind of milk float/golf buggy-type thing, offering encouragement, humorous asides and good conversation. It’s like running with Paul Saager, only faster. I am pushing my physical limits here but I barely notice, so much am I enjoying myself. I request some fitting music, and I am given ‘Tick Tick Boom’ by The Hives to speed me on my way. Perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile 6 to 10 are along dual carriageway tarmac running towards and then alongside British Steel, formerly Corus, previously British Steel. It seems the place has been rejuvenated, now employing 27,000 people and exporting to 36 different countries since the recent takeover by a workers cooperative, led by former PM Gordon Brown and Juninho, the diminutive former Brazil and Middlesboro midfield maestro. In this spirit of rejuvenation and renewal I glide effortlessly along, passing Steve Ovett and Sebastian Coe joining in a game of 5-a-side at the turn-round point. Perhaps unexpectedly, Coe fires a spectacular volley in from long distance just after Ovett has belted one in from close range. Those boys, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am offered a change of footwear and, although I have misgivings about losing time, I opt for a pair of New Bollocks AirHead racers. Apparently I have chosen well, although expensively. But my support crew advise that Steve Cram is paying – one of the perks of being entered for the upcoming Kielder Marathon. Cheers Steve, nice one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thin line of pink &amp;amp; red out on the foreshore tells me that the Teesside flamingo population is thriving, and I begin to wonder if I’m hallucinating. However I am immediately jolted back to reality as a slice of M&amp;amp;S lemon swiss roll proffered by Michelle Pfieffer on roller skates helps me into the final three mile stretch to the finish. The yachts out on the azure waters have been replaced by schools of dolphin, and a pod of Orca cruelly taunting what looks like Ben Fogle in a kayak. That raises a smile, although the Killers have the upper hand from what I can see as I run past. Ben is vainly attempting to posh-charm his way out of this rather tight spot. Put it this way – I don’t think &lt;em&gt;that &lt;/em&gt;match was heading for extra time. Meanwhile, the film crew on the big boat are all taking bets with James Cracknell on how many bites it will take until Ben can&#39;t emote to camera any longer. You couldn&#39;t make it up....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;The finish funnel is a riot of colour and music and wild applause as I approach...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 351px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491163467100530066&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtOSmYWu_XLGqnZ4yY_yVxEJuqc1h9F6Y1JS-bAHWX-xqp_fGHxxZxsbA6rT9vL-v8bAG0NWhDfnxjXknnKvCM5eKx1i8ff3YUsXInO21OULa56DEy2otZa2tvxfd-UYDJd2lJ76hyLg/s400/Carnival.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;The announcer spots and namechecks every runner at the run-in, and gives a quick opinion, based on the finish time, of each runner’s performance. I have to admit that hearing the words ‘Don’t give up the day job Alan’ at 140 decibels is not what I want to hear as I approach, but I have to admire the brutal honesty. The clock on the finish line is a specially-built recreation of Big Ben, only digital, and as I fly through the tape – yes, they put a finish tape up for everyone to break through – I am handed a small bouquet of flowers and directed into a large marquee. The post-race massage is very welcome, as is the cup of tea and portion of freshly-fried chips (vinegar, no salt) which is placed in my hand as I leave the finish area. There are no commemorative t-shirts (I am told that they have been mislaid by someone at the Club - as if that could happen), but we are presented with a choice of non-chafing base-layer running gear, available in every club colour combination you could think of, and all in either natural or man-made fibre. And some socks. And a massive yellow shoulderbag to put all of this stuff in. Overwhelmed doesn’t get near it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 307px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491163611297813074&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0V3laIxvQKT1hT0oRiPj_5oxAV7Zd3xI3wLSPCJy6Zp_wmPkh3MKM32GOlSfaPexWFq4ydfDus8JjQKSdi3R_04y7d4FkIMOa7jhI0m2zk8SrFNI1AFCnktPXeMr13htnSTa8004LBCE/s400/eric-clapton-picture-1.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as I stepped blinking out into the warm afternoon air, acknowledging in passing the legendary Eric ‘Slowhand’ Clapton sat on a stool playing the Blind Faith classic ‘Can’t Find My Way Home’ ( I actually threw a couple of quid into his guitar case, and he said ‘cheers Alan - good finish by the way’) very quietly so only I could hear), I paused to reflect. I sat on the comfy seat on the bus back to the car-park, gazing at the sunlit streets of Redcar and drinking my complimentary iced tea, and remembered how negative I’d felt upon arrival. Sometimes we expect the worst, but, if we persevere, good things can unexpectedly occur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My car is still there, looking clean after the morning rain. What a pity that no-one else from the Club had got across for this one. I’m fairly sure I’ll be back next year, but can’t guarantee that the experience will be the same. All I can do is relate the facts to my clubmates, and hope that one or two may be enticed to join in the fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But let’s see. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=6973371196950038759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6973371196950038759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6973371196950038759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/07/transformer.html' title='Transformer'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOpgWUHY3QEqmK5zYiiztB5e2YM6QEq1pZXAiTpGOrGsul9DahRqBm45XPv4Sxow5JNOCNOSNyHZD4hJcINfxApbeJfHPdj3li20SsmgJFJzNjmbu13fTKj8BNqncNva8PaoJXjej-2vQ/s72-c/ICI.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-7923393051726744641</id><published>2010-06-12T17:33:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2010-06-17T12:34:59.365+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Wer Went ter Blaydon Races....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvm34Zkh86MsU2KKpnUYvMxFWZSY2jyDD6Otxqxk_VURKEweab7A6MDSvzdNpqTB85tm3vcFvDB57sA61UYKJz7-ee5N5bLAtz_ak4O2HGcLLlFDndjlC-H-6mN47dNISs2fX4WiQwJ4Y/s1600/Blaydon+Race+2010-06-09.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482322690985582114&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvm34Zkh86MsU2KKpnUYvMxFWZSY2jyDD6Otxqxk_VURKEweab7A6MDSvzdNpqTB85tm3vcFvDB57sA61UYKJz7-ee5N5bLAtz_ak4O2HGcLLlFDndjlC-H-6mN47dNISs2fX4WiQwJ4Y/s400/Blaydon+Race+2010-06-09.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Wednesday 9 June 2010 - 7pm&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ootside Balmbra’s in The Cloth Market, aa siz ter Stew thut this yooster be a music haal way back when leyk. He juss sorta shrugged a bit and lucked up inter the rain cumin doon in eez face leyk. ‘Where does it start, round the corner?’ Not sure aa siz, must be hereaboots leyk. Thuz, leyk,&lt;em&gt; lerdzer&lt;/em&gt; people stannin aboot trying ter gerroot the rain. Aa’m waitin for the music – ther aal sing ‘Blaydon Races’ before ther start leyk, burrin this rain? I divven knaa, mebbe ther’ll not bother the neet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aa gan roond the corner tryner gerroot the rain. Whey thuz hunnerds more heor. Lucker - Waalsend vests, Heaton vests, Blyth vests....thuz even sumbody from ower the watta, aal the way from Low Fell. That’s Gatesheed yer knaa. Taak aboot &lt;em&gt;brave&lt;/em&gt;. He muster cum reet ower the bridge leyk! An therz a reet racket cummin from the cathedral an aal, bells aal the teym, can ther not shurrup? Aa cannit hear the singin man. Ah well. It’s nairly qwaata past sivven noo, aa berra gerrin among the crowd oot on the road. Meynd aa’m a bit squeshed burritz aalreet, it’s waamer in heor than oot theor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Champion. The bells’ve stopped at last. Even berra, aa can heor sumbody shootin up aheed. Aah think it meyt be the Mair, burra cannit see owt. Ee’s ment to start the race by ringin Geordie Ridley’s original bell from 1862! Fat chance of me hearin that leyk! Der ther not knaa how much noise fower thoosand runners can maik when thah waitin on the start? Aye – fower thoosand, that’s worra said. The roads are clersed an aal. At least aa herp ser – aa’m stannin in the middle of the road on Mosley Street. If ther &lt;em&gt;wern’t&lt;/em&gt;, aa’d luck leyk a pizza by noo. It’s a great occasion here in the Toon. Aal the lads an lasses theor, aal wi smiling faces....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had on, was that Go? Aye it was man, werroff. Reet, let’s get gannin. Aa just gan canny at forst leyk, aa divvent wanna be knackad before wer even gerroot the toon. Wer gan runnin alang Collingwood Street, then wer gan past the central station –yer knaa, where yer get the train from – and keep gannin west through the stair rods and puddles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly wer gerron the Scotswood Road, gannin past the massive lang Vickers factry, that yooster be caaled Armstrong’s years ago. Yer probably knew that aalreddy but aa’m tryner educate yiz aal , yer knaa. The Scotty Road’s aal changed noo leyk. It wiz aal horrible terrissed hooziz an ootside netties when aa wiz a lad. Ther wiz lerds of bars an aal, one aa remember wiz caaled the ‘Hydraulic Crane’. Noo what lass wudden gan weak it the kneez if yer invited her oot for a swift half at the aad ‘Hydraulic’? Aye lad, teymziz not what ther was, notny more. Anyway, where was aa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aye, wa feytin wa way west through the rain, an aa’m runnin aalreet aa think. Some gadgie dances past me, an ee’s got them daft ‘Vibram Five Fingers’ shoes (well, aa yooz the term keynda loosely yer knaa) on is feet. ‘How man, waaron tarmac man yer daft ninny’. Ackshly aa divven’t shoot that, aa just thowt it, but...yer knaa, wer aal dee that divven wer? Yer think summick, but yer say summick tertally different, divvent deny it. Anyway, worreva, ee’s just run away from me leyk, an aa’m gaanin as fastiz aa can! Knaaworrameenleyk?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noo, here wer gan. Wer gannin owa the Tyne noo. On the Scotswood Bridge. It’s still rainin, aa can tell yer that lad. Noo ther’s a kind of owtenback loop on the otha seyd, so that’s a bit daft but so what, aa’m enjoyin mesel here. Noo wer gannin towards the gleamin metropolis caaled Blaydon. Aa’ve nivvor run this before leyk, so aa divven knaa where aa’m gannin. That’s how cum aa didden serroff in front yer knaa, cos aa wozzen queyt shoowa of the root. So aa’ve been hanging back a bit, leyk, keepin me powda dry (iz ther say). So aa think aa can see the finish noo, aa’l put the eftabornahs on an see what happens. Here ganz......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yer bugger man, it’s fortha thun aa thort. Meynd yee, thiz a canny crowd oot considrin the inclement atmospheric conditions, as aa think ther say roond these exotic parts. Yer gan alang this road reet, torn left an doon inter a kinder carpark izzit? Aye, then yer turn left an dee a kinder loop, an then yer can see the finish gantry an ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....Gerrin. Aa’m finished. Still rainin an aal. Burra divvent care by noo, aa’m happy with me run an ah’ve got me race teeshort and guddybag. It’s a guddun an aal, ham an peasepuddin stotty cyek, watta, a bottle of beer...wey man, wot’s not ter leyk? An aa neely forgot, ther had black pudden, and tripe. Aye, &lt;em&gt;tripe&lt;/em&gt;. Aa didden see anyone ackshly &lt;em&gt;eat&lt;/em&gt; any, but ther had pickled unyuns an aal. Aaal gud healthy re-fuellin as ye’ll agree aa’m shoowa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway aa’m yem ageyn noo, as yer meyt guess. Burrit was great yer knaa? Aa luvved the atmosphere man, aall the way alang. Ther was music an aal, aboot three or fower live bands with propa gittars an drums an aal that. Singin in the rain, just for us runners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A proper north-east event on a rainy neet in Joon. Felt more leyk October yer knaa, but what can yer dee? That’s reet – ther’s precisely &lt;em&gt;nowt&lt;/em&gt; yer can dee aboot that. Another thort – yer nivvor knaa what’s roond the corna, so berra ter enjoy these things while yer can. That’s worraa say, anyhow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aa had a reet bonny neet. An aa bet you wudder to, if yer’d been theor. Next yeor, ladsanlasses? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;Photo courtesy of AMcD at &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://runnerwanderings.blogspot.com/&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:85%;&quot;&gt;http://runnerwanderings.blogspot.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=7923393051726744641' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/7923393051726744641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/7923393051726744641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/06/wer-went-ter-blaydon-races.html' title='Wer Went ter Blaydon Races....'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvm34Zkh86MsU2KKpnUYvMxFWZSY2jyDD6Otxqxk_VURKEweab7A6MDSvzdNpqTB85tm3vcFvDB57sA61UYKJz7-ee5N5bLAtz_ak4O2HGcLLlFDndjlC-H-6mN47dNISs2fX4WiQwJ4Y/s72-c/Blaydon+Race+2010-06-09.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-3100163421777766273</id><published>2010-02-28T20:59:00.014+00:00</published><updated>2010-06-04T13:16:53.191+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Grand National</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;English National Cross Country Championships - 27 February 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443407469610915202&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA-3Ctn7pEabG1BfEUiKsOwY8h3_PN2KmFVv8N5IgVR6yebakKSYx0shyphenhyphentkjlWZx37rzNzBJxqSSaf-4zjuSDGDpr1a22IoChtmTd4tCz_xQZRhx8I-ijN32HKgVYAzVUNhmK8kgf9QY/s400/P1040656.JPG&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Oh no - here they come&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were here. And here, on this day, was Roundhay Park on the northern outskirts of the City of Leeds, in West Yorkshire. Several thousand other people were here too. The occasion was the English National Cross Country Championships 2010. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This event is held at a different location each year, and each runner represents his or her club in a battle for supremacy over their rivals. Although of course each runner hopes for a good personal performance, there is intense but (mostly) good-natured rivalry between competing club teams.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived in good time – first race was to be 11am - parked and set off through Roundhay to see what lay in store for our race at 3pm. At these events, having made the effort to get here, it is always entertaining, not to say daunting, to watch as many of the races as you can. This helps the apprehensive runner to understand the nuances of the course. It also reminds you how very, very &lt;em&gt;fast&lt;/em&gt; a lot of these people are....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were only three of us on the day to compete in the Senior Men’s race. That is Dave Sargent, Mark Bissell, and myself. Plus our team support Holly of course, who met up with other Penrith-based peeps representing Border Harriers today. Derek Hurton, who had instigated our attendance in the first place, was unrepresented on the day, due to injury. Or so he said....he has yet to produce a doctor&#39;s note.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then of course we were also there to watch Megan Bates, running in the U13 girls race at 12.10, and Matilda Lowther in the U15 girls at 12.55, both representing Eden Runners junior section. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So under leaden grey skies, with snow flurries on the freezing north wind, we watched, clapped, waited, and tried to keep warm by running from point to point on the course. That’s when we weren’t queuing at the increasingly over-used portaloos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443408159883313938&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV7GrdFHNq3uvOo1T74lc3rd3DBjCIt2GYjTqFhRXEIDwSps-6JwMwlOJILY3LWpW7uhi0NYowKzfy5xImEhwlWEJ4k0JGhCdpBZWyEVJRxW5nQitp06FGJL9r0dZb51kAyvKZl292AXI/s400/P1040665.JPG&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Ignore that bloke - just look how steep the hill is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The course was a challenging creation of rolling hills, with many twists and turns, hideously clarty in several places, through the parkland and round the lakeshore. Almost all of the races were run over different courses, ranging from 3k for the U13 girls through to 12k for the Senior Men. All races contained at least one steep, fast descent and the payback, an even steeper, longer climb. The courses were all taped off and closed to spectators except at the numerous marshalled crossing-points.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443406460357602754&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC_lhj7QsnmqBLYtyOKkCTZVLPMrTotJvvgokPiA56loNrqM5FmYeg36C4-W33isFm0stG4LOW7Q1PTGKlN_Tb7jmOZBnwR3Nwj1LL19tUbZCVIJBi1w1_MMBlaYglTv-XF4P80NPF2zY/s400/P1040658.JPG&quot; /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Seniors Men&#39;s Race ....yes, we were in there somewhere...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The event timetable was adhered to rigorously. Each runner wore a timing chip, and there was a penned starting system in operation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the U13 girls race, Megan managed a top-10 finish, a mere 17 seconds away from first in a field of 417 finishers. As for Matilda, she finished 20th from 360 finishers in the U15 girls. I don’t know if they were satisfied with their races, but they looked impressive from where we were stood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Senior Women’s race started while at least 10 of the runners were still going through the quagmire in the pre-start tent. This provided some amusement, with several ladies trying to chase the fast-disappearing race while trying to put on spikes and pin numbers on etc. That was to be the last time I would laugh for at least 90 minutes.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443411718044831650&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0TtV3LzSxSC-MN8LEoKrtyQgJ9e3lEhkoETujNfYjaKFRN1vIUn5xwjmf7j2qcbk5rByKZ5dOUj4kU6016jGR_tuJyRaPLlYYp0yIs1oN1tpNEzeHE714CqDNgsYItlBgviDIJqVGyiU/s400/P1040674.JPG&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Dave was able to levitate right across the road...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The penned start system proved to be a bit chaotic once you were in there, but it made no difference to me. I loitered near the back, relaxed, knowing I would do well to finish in the top 1000 in this race. No pressure. My plan was to let the racers get away and just run how I felt. We had to run 3 laps, with the added benefit/pressure of thousands of spectators lining the course. The gun went, and like a herd of wildebeest sweeping across the Serengeti, we set off.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443412650228065362&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWAWJJiT649jvFXqJyRH9nIWLzYkd8MsqoWxMX5a4ZaP-EHTq57YgG76KxEfaUwCg4uOFJfd057FpxGAR0byr_-6fQuT_RdthVgH4ga1FYAw6Ux_PHwWoozyR3lB44zks0xcF9poegDmg/s400/P1040669.JPG&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Mark had to concentrate really hard in the &#39;Standing on One Leg&#39; section&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And within less than an hour, it was over. The third climb up Massive Hill proved fairly hard – think top-part of Graham Street covered in mud taken as a sprint – but then that’s exactly what you’d expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443405128610066562&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh56cZ83E2_Lhax3Jnt7hGuCK1BYFLg44-IUZ-M6PhcDGuHyUl4bE1BsNuhNY_95XlTUdk_stuUdto6rSu5VmmZIMfEBR9AyAlVq6spteOnI6RYchIVFikFwiG6oIoTKHG4AAJuF1T9kko/s400/P1040676.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we enjoyed it – Dave finished in 601st place in 50:20, Mark in 721st in 51:56, and myself in 855th in 53:48. There were 1428 finishers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all, 4301 finishers across 10 different races. A proper Day at The Races.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=3100163421777766273' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3100163421777766273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3100163421777766273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/02/grand-national.html' title='Grand National'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnA-3Ctn7pEabG1BfEUiKsOwY8h3_PN2KmFVv8N5IgVR6yebakKSYx0shyphenhyphentkjlWZx37rzNzBJxqSSaf-4zjuSDGDpr1a22IoChtmTd4tCz_xQZRhx8I-ijN32HKgVYAzVUNhmK8kgf9QY/s72-c/P1040656.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-2883778284908981030</id><published>2010-02-15T23:06:00.033+00:00</published><updated>2010-02-24T16:50:34.195+00:00</updated><title type='text'>Been a Long Time Comin&#39;.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;strong&gt;ING New York City Marathon, Sunday 1 November 2009&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439719293772775170&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiru071jaOWGsHsO_e0cwbn_pul5BxqAXHtcs1Hppx230i7GndoF4MQq0VU53elsH5m6eaQxLKz3DbmpBL1v_04UjdGmWZAGLIldtFYkPb_qGxLS4O1fDqDy3HyuXO6Rn5AyscUy7Im-7U/s400/VN+Bridge+2.png&quot; /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;It starts here...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Easy, it ain’t. But then we never thought it would be. In the back of our transport going East over the Queensborough Bridge from Manhattan, it’s 5.35 am, dark, and wet outside. As we go south through Brooklyn we notice police in several places towing parked cars off the street – this is the race route on race day and nothing is allowed to get in the way. Traffic begins to build up as we get close to the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, which will close to traffic at 7am. It’s still raining, and still dark as we reach the other side. There is already a massive line of coaches on our right, pulling in to allow the runners onboard to disembark into the start villages at Fort Wadsworth, a former military base just off the bridge on Staten Island. We are relieved to see a car drop-off point signposted, and so suddenly we are out into the damp early morning air. Don, who has travelled with us from Manhattan, disappears into the crowd. I don’t know much about him, except he’s from Miami, has run several half-marathons before, but is a first-time NYC marathoner, like Julia, John &amp;amp; me. Karen, our other fellow traveller, has been here before, around 5 years ago. Then, she started with the elite women, as befits her ability. This time, the pressure is off to some extent, since she runs with the masses. We hang around for a while – it’s only 6am – hoping to find Kevin, who is coming by coach. Only after waiting around a while do we realise that his coach will take him to the Staten Island Ferry, and ferry –transported runners come in on the other side of the village. So, in the style of people looking for a tiny bearded needle in a massive haystack, we move out into the village proper. The start villages are split into three colours - blue, green &amp;amp; orange. 7am arrives and as it’s breakfast time, the porridge in a flask routine begins. As the spoon I had selected from the apartment does not fit into the flask, I use the handle to lever the porridge-flavoured plasticine out, with help from John. Yes, breakfast out here is a two-man job. Before long we are waving our goodbyes to John – he’s on the green start whereas the rest of us have blue numbers.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439704417853057266&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejWlt8O-MGpmYgeFGRD72Htma_xie9wh_D1zoUQcHmN9wu14y6eClw-5kcMp488VkKj0LXBFbtKQTw5gDz5PlRpB0cfLxK7uwdtAQseMu5XvZUt2tE0sXNlYZ1JPL5zHBFcWIvUfWuWw/s400/NYM+2009+Blokes+with+Chairs.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Some came prepared for a long wait&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grey daylight spreads quietly as we wander around, and it’s still raining. We look for somewhere to sit/stand while we quietly fret about what’s to come. But there are people sitting, lying in sleeping bags, zipped into one-man tents, huddled under blankets and duvets, or just standing around in small groups. Julia says it’s like Sangatte. I’ve never been there so can’t disagree, but there is a quiet purpose to the whole gathering. Karen &amp;amp; Julia have both run marathons more regularly &amp;amp; recently than I have. We have all trained as well as we could, only Julia is saying she could have perhaps completed a few more long training runs. In my own mind, I wonder whether I should have tried at least one 20+ miler at closer to race pace. But I’ve been wondering that for weeks. Karen knows far better than I do, and I’ve been happy to follow her &amp;amp; John’s advice these recent weeks. Too late for any change now of course. Bagels, coffee, tea &amp;amp; hot water on demand, the scale of this place is something else. We’re sure there must be a portaloo for each runner. I then remember reading somewhere that there are more than 1500 on site. I don’t think the UK has that many altogether. Where do they all get used before &amp;amp; afterwards? Eventually, close to 8.15 am and after several hot drinks, we decide it’s time to find the baggage trucks. We put our extra clothing &amp;amp; belongings into our special bags and load them onto the numbered UPS trucks. Each one is staffed by two smiling volunteers. Every helper so far has been unremittingly cheerful. I should have counted how many trucks. There must be nearly 50 of them. So, stripped down to our race gear with added ‘throwaway’ clothes to keep us warm until the race is almost due to start, we wander off for a further, final portaloo visit&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439707617409346274&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlAfZYx-gtYjQevonOzWa1pHs77HHtr3lWAr-QTnBZaQJ6eg-s-x4SFoJsLcPICv2RNSOoIpB9J3DRHY-IAfyRYmVysgWzhxCyk8LA67-DIHnS1nsKzuDeIE4L18__dzbFHbBuMebclo8/s400/NYM+2009+Green+Start+Village.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Next time, I&#39;m bringing a chair...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Karen goes off into her corral, we wish her good luck and stand for a moment gazing North up to the bridge where the race starts. The huge suspension structure dominates the horizon in that direction. I discover later on that it has two decks – John’s green start actually ran across on the lower deck. Julia is starting in the next wave, so it’s me who leaves next. I wish her good luck and so now we’re all on our own and left to our own devices. I step into corral B where we are held until we can move forward to the start proper. Even here, there is still plenty of room to move around, and even more portaloos, with no queues at all. Moving forward I eventually find the front of the pen, and move back a few paces. I don’t want to appear too keen. Looking around, there are very few female athletes here, and nearly everyone in here is younger than me. Again I begin to worry that I’m not in the right place – some Mexican boys next to me are talking about 2:40 or 2:45 and making bets with each other, laughing. A Swedish bloke asks me what the time is by pointing at his wrist. I note that he has a watch on, but tell him anyway. 9.10 I tell him. He gives me the international thumbs up sign. Almost imperceptibly, runners are gathering and standing facing the direction of travel. Suddenly we can walk forward and are taken out of the pen and between lines of buses and out onto yer actual tarmac. I had thrown away my ancient adidas tracksuit bottoms earlier, quite an emotional wrench as I think I’d had them since about 1995. Still, not as bad as the bloke who threw his tracksuit away only to remember that his car keys were still in the pocket. Luckily for him they were easily retrieved from the roof of the portaloos. Better to remember now..... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 164px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 156px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439706354580760450&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Vtul1wYzdFdY-FbI06RaaRe75nSQEOT8ZJv035_uLocaNn03Qclh063hyD-XbGa-oX5MDAAOY4QgR36f-M9TPO3EJ-7UcaLW2G3zu8Av8VTxgFjnprv_bQSw89HYuXeVSTsN9qBu540/s400/Frank.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Somehow, Frank always makes it to the start line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have tied my shoelaces a million times. We are treated to a live rendition of The Star-Spangled Banner. I have pulled my socks up and folded the tops just so. The elite men are introduced to the crowd. The biggest cheer is reserved for Ryan Hall, the ‘Great White Hope’ of USA marathon running. I have set and re-set my watch and gps many times. The Mayor of NYC gives a short but sincere welcome speech. I have readjusted the pins on my number. The Race Director, Mary Wittenberg, says a few words, and before I can think about it there is a massive cannon blast, followed immediately by Frank Sinatra at 400 decibels, and this massive sea of energy in human form begins to surge forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think there was a bit of stuttering on tiptoes until the fast lads got clear, then we were away – I took around 40secs to reach the start gantry, then we were off. The carriageway to the right suddenly became available and so I veered to the far right of the course, where there was plenty of space to run. I found myself running on the narrow pavement next to Highway 278, where the metal bridge railing swept past at waist height. All I was aware of was a huge view to my right, South-East to Coney Island and out into the Atlantic beyond. Someone had waited late to discard clothing and a long-sleeved top flew off in slow motion into the Hudson. Others had left it late to take fluid onboard and were now having to stop next to the bridge parapet for a natural break. None of them were women, I hasten to add. So with half an eye on the hazards on the pavement and the other one and a half on the view, off we went. The first mile took us halfway over the bridge, 225 feet above the river. I was trying just to run carefully, but when the adrenaline kicks in, it’s hard to rein back. Mile two was mostly downhill and we veered slightly left as we came down off the bridge on the Brooklyn side. The first photographers and then the first crowds appeared immediately, and we were into Bay Ridge, Brooklyn – 1.8 miles gone in a flash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The spectators are already dictating my race. This sounds stupidly corny, but I feel like I’m running this for them. Of course I don’t know who any of these people are. But still, they all seem to want to be part of it. So why not? I will spend most of the next 14 or 15 miles high-fiving people. It’s just.....well it’s just great.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile 3 includes a sharp left then a sharp right onto 4th Avenue, whereafter we run in a virtual straight line for two miles until we bridge-cross another road and veer slightly right, still on 4th Avenue. I think in total we ran about 5.5miles on 4th Ave. It’s wide, with an island up the middle for at least some of the way, and there is music everywhere. Every mile on both sides of the road there is Gatorade being given out by dozens and dozens and dozens of people.&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_JTRDj26BqWftD2erIauIvy1C_yBuIiwFo4C4wWZFvfxzQgACHpuKsBVZIsX8TKB3dm1oUpMcYFf6IfAdLNR8O5vvDqs4KAUq1moehxTyFkEgNYODVIQKwHm4BaPmJMcR55jRL58rK7s/s1600-h/4th+Ave+Street+Sign.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 315px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439718127055712402&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_JTRDj26BqWftD2erIauIvy1C_yBuIiwFo4C4wWZFvfxzQgACHpuKsBVZIsX8TKB3dm1oUpMcYFf6IfAdLNR8O5vvDqs4KAUq1moehxTyFkEgNYODVIQKwHm4BaPmJMcR55jRL58rK7s/s400/4th+Ave+Street+Sign.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; At each station, the Gatorade gives way to water – Poland Spring – and there are signposted first aid and toilets at every mile. I try to take note of the street numbers as we cross each one. It’s all a blur. Everyone wants a high five – people of all shapes, sizes and nationalities. People I’ll never know or even &lt;em&gt;see&lt;/em&gt; again, are spurring me on and I keep telling myself to slow down. I knew I needed to, but I was enjoying myself too much. There seem to be places of worship all along the road here. The miles seem to whizz past, until almost at the Mile 8 mark we turn left at last at the end of 4th Avenue onto Flatbush Avenue. Somewhere here I recall seeing the Brooklyn Academy of Music. How appropriate. Then it’s a sharp right onto Lafayette Avenue. All the way along, I am telling myself to remember this, that, this, that, another this....it’s impossible. Minnie Mouse overtakes on my left. I get slightly annoyed because there are people in the crowd shouting for Mickey. But that’s definitely Minnie. There is a gospel choir singing on the church steps on the left. It’s just magic. There are dozens of people ringing cowbells at particular places – I think these are at ING-sponsored ‘cheering zones’ - which sounds naff but ....to me, nothing about this day is naff. It just fits this day in this place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is where I find myself running beside Steve. Steve is a Brit – or at least he has the Union Flag on the back of his vest, just like me. I know nothing else about Steve – and I hope he enjoyed his day – but he sticks in my mind because, with STEVE emblazoned front and back, he got an incredible amount of namechecks from the crowd which must have given him a boost, especially in those final miles around Central Park. Note to self for next time – name on vest.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439721771534800194&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCpC7xCSqP4OiqZHsvmPX1suv5aEMjtKYwUUkSSvpN2M6IjjBbJJudVvcNiCJjuKJogtohyphenhyphenHqtefukoLdfl8Bfiew0tDtBwRNMIQu7A9pYyLuJ8U0Fd2bkaIlRkJJnAU3Unlmro4dmjJk/s400/Star-Spangled+Banner.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Then, oddly, the atmosphere changes as we race along Bedford Avenue in the Williamsburg district, because this is where Brooklyn’s Hasidic Jewish community live. Largely, they are not interactive with the race, although I see a few taking photographs. And today there are some children holding out water for the runners. Mostly they just seem to be going about their business (Sunday is like a weekday for them), going to work or school or shopping. It made me feel like I’d crossed a frontier into another time for a few seconds until I remembered reading about this and I understood what I was seeing. The race founder, Fred Lebow, was himself an orthodox Jew and did a lot of work to pacify community leaders who took exception to their ‘patch’ being over-run in this way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Williamsburg Bridge passes over the race route just before the Mile 11 marker is reached and I’m still travelling too fast. I tell myself that this is time in the bank but I’m also fairly sure that you can’t, actually, put time in the bank. The first of three energy gels is taken between 11-12 miles. On the long reaches of Bedford Avenue, we have gradually swung round from NW to NE as we head through Williamsburg, formerly mostly German, towards the Polish Quarter from Nassau Avenue to Manhattan Avenue (I have wondered since – what was it like here in the late 1930s when Hitler annexed Poland??) and out of Brooklyn towards Queens, over the Pulaski Bridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI56Yx49lKWqwj70OoB0VMtmmRAKd7r4YHHki_Q1OLoYuBgd1G3pKeO2SJiLiYI-zuMTcXo-91bimLPtCDcmNPUS-msjZFWgufo3SqG92TCylQm76Tvq_Th2Dyro7OvLRUcBPNONryj80/s1600-h/Pulaski+Bridge.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439722939044392674&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI56Yx49lKWqwj70OoB0VMtmmRAKd7r4YHHki_Q1OLoYuBgd1G3pKeO2SJiLiYI-zuMTcXo-91bimLPtCDcmNPUS-msjZFWgufo3SqG92TCylQm76Tvq_Th2Dyro7OvLRUcBPNONryj80/s400/Pulaski+Bridge.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Pulaski Bridge – that’s halfway right? We’re out of Brooklyn, into Queens. Now I have to be alert. My support crew are probably somewhere in the borough, although nearer the 14 mile mark, as that’s where the race route passes near to our hotel. Still the race whizzes past – I use every single water station at every single mile. So, halfway in 1:28. Truthfully, if I’d run this as a &lt;em&gt;half&lt;/em&gt; marathon I’d be pleased with that. My head is swimming with little details. Splits, pace, street names, when will it start to really hurt? Are Karen &amp;amp;/or John ahead of me? Where will the family be? Why didn’t we say a particular spot, even agree which side of the road for goodness’ sake?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438991319700040466&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtwmoCCMDfhYEG6SVx1VTY7Uui-MFT5JuwGJH-irtIRGkYinpKHU_TLzQ3FwB6npOd3kd99J6N7tawDHlEUtrkODxsWUrV-3hJosmGytFo42FHyS-dmtz4_34U8aIYP84nzVoJx76xYis/s400/Karen+NYM+M15+09-11-01.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Karen, flying in mile 14...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Somewhere here I see the huge steel girdered structure of the Queensboro Bridge high on the skyline. We have to go over it, and it is a long way up in the air. Momentarily deflated, I succeed in forgetting about it almost instantly. I concentrate on my breathing, and on trying to work out where the family will be standing. Before I know it we are going sharp left and out over the bridge. They are not here. In fact there are no crowds here at all. Later, I am told that I ran within 10m of the family as they screamed and shouted at me. I was oblivious. How could I not have seen them? So looking rather too desperately for the mile 15 marker, I plough on up the incline on the lower deck of the bridge. No crowds, only the odd photographer. No drinks station, only discarded drink bottles thrown away by the elite runners. I look at each one, hoping to see some name I recognise or maybe a little flag affixed. If I see one with Paula on it, I’m carrying it home. But I don’t. This silly preoccupation (and aren’t there lots of those when we run?) gets me over the top of the climb and now we fall down the exit ramp towards Manhattan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439714969642778754&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjmMAoA_0ltrCsjacD9cayBX_IlV0jML9etmv9cKtXH5V_t-Rmo8JXFJLMjzIEVMup731j2-UYp7NOEAfT4mg5WtNJvbKeHwqg23zxwf41p_YYKgV37ilVu64r-TyT4jwKw-VdQpi6tg/s400/queensborough_bridge_queens.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;That would be Queensborough Bridge then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;As we near the bottom there are two walls. One is made of straw bales, built on the outside of the left-hand hairpin. This made me laugh, then I thought it was probably more for the wheelchairs careering down the slope. The second was more impressive – a huge wall of noise made by the crowds stood several-deep. On both sides. A massive lift after the isolation on the bridge. Another 90deg lefthander takes us back under the bridge as we head up 1st Avenue, now well into Mile 17.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438991117781266482&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2FNBrrp9gnX_FhURHWm-VJzJwpGc1glXk-mStDfwjOY9M_2WR9Eg75CHlIU8UfxbfDaWVNjimmlWNTqcvzXgkVW8ryXWJsa9zTOZ1BtBrEsyeqFO1G37Lr-HU4kWlIk0Ek5k9EhKcYrI/s400/John+NYM+M15+09-11-01.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;John in celebratory mood - and he&#39;s only just passed halfway&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Avenue is six lanes wide. I am now running in the middle of the right-hand side of the road. The noise here is literally breathtaking. We are in Manhattan, there are massive skyscrapers either side of us, and the cheering is mixed with whistles, cowbells, airhorns, music. I am still well under 3-hour pace but I strongly suspect I will not hold it. &lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOe9g86Wpt2DHS5QkCq1T8BtPYlcltVJv8aU0OALVuoop_oxd6LUWt04pCLsRu5ah6poXMO368jWujw9L8_4r3LdIBfkdJpct1KC0EuyUZxsNuIvVw7adXhDwjA0CNfqzF7f94YfYpL8/s1600-h/Mr+I.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 114px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439712964373922898&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOe9g86Wpt2DHS5QkCq1T8BtPYlcltVJv8aU0OALVuoop_oxd6LUWt04pCLsRu5ah6poXMO368jWujw9L8_4r3LdIBfkdJpct1KC0EuyUZxsNuIvVw7adXhDwjA0CNfqzF7f94YfYpL8/s200/Mr+I.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now the crowd are telling me that I’m incredible, and in my slightly deranged state I wonder - why now? Then on my left, Mr Incredible eases alongside then glides away, waving to his fans as he goes. Feeling slightly miffed that I’m not as highly-regarded as I stupidly thought, I try to concentrate again on just running. Grete Waitz’s mantra – just keep going. Obvious, but simple and meaningful. We must have run 3 and a half miles on First Avenue. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Under a double road bridge and into Spanish Harlem, nearly at Mile 20, we get closer to the Willis Avenue Bridge that carries us from Manhattan and into The Bronx. For the first time, I start to feel weary. The bridge road surface seems to be constructed of steel lattice-work with no tarmac. Good for drainage, maybe, but not good on the feet. For today, there is an orange sort of foam carpet that leads over the river. And it feels like a climb. Running off the bridge, a bloke from Brizzle, England runs past me offering words of encouragement. I can’t remember what my reply was. It was probably fairly civil, but just as probably it was unintelligible.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;I am in The Bronx. Can you believe this? I can’t either. I am trying to lift myself with high fives and eye contact with spectators, a raised eyebrow here and there, maybe a nod, perhaps a word of encouragement. I need everything I can get. My pace has dropped from comfortably sub 7mins to well over 7.20s. This is a proper challenge. The crowds seem a little more sparse, but still all positive. I wonder as I go if anyone looks at the &lt;em&gt;Eden Runners&lt;/em&gt; on my vest and even cares what it means. Occasionally someone will shout ‘Go Eden!’ or something similar. And I will call back ‘Cheers’ or ‘Thanks’ and I hope that they know that they are just about carrying me along at this point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;I had thought this is where it would really start to hurt. But I wasn’t ready for how depleted I would already be feeling at this point. At 20 miles, I had read, you only have 10k to go. Only 10k. I was there in 2hr 17. Loads of time. On paper, anything is possible from here. But in reality, some things are not. I have used as many gels as I dare, and so I can do no more to get fuel inside me. I have enough fuel, it&#39;s just the engine isn’t working as it should, somehow. Enough fuel, not enough energy. Out of the Bronx over the E138th Street Bridge, back into Manhattan, 5 miles to go. Apparently I have run past the Yankee Stadium. I have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;A left-hander, onto 5th Avenue. 4 lanes of tarmac, straight towards Central Park. A diversion around Marcus Garvey Park which is plonked right on 5th Ave. This confuses me, as I think we’ve reached Central Park but wasn’t expecting the right/left/left/right combination that Marcus throws at me. Don’t do that Marcus.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Don’t think Alan. Just run.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;I have run past Minnie Mouse, going backward, even at my reduced speed. And I have overtaken Mr Incredible – not so easy now is it, Mr so-called superhero? To my relief I realise that, at M23, this really is Central Park on my right, which means that the uphill gradient is not just imaginary, it really is up. Suddenly at my left across the road I see/hear Emily &amp;amp; Tiffany, Karen’s daughters, with David (John’s dad) furiously waving and shouting at me. I do my best to acknowledge that I’ve seen them. That’s a big lift. Come on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;This mile (24) will be the slowest of my race – over 8.15 – and at this point I have settled for any kind of finish. Then way across the road to my left I see Jeff, Stew, Holly &amp;amp; Christine all waving &amp;amp; shouting. I don’t believe it. I leave the race behind and plod (so it feels) over to them. Everyone gets a high five, it’s magic. I want to stop. I need to go. Stop. Go. Want. Need.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438991592848841058&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJwz1tVuxAZFgi7DvkEm5DTuxcP4bJXtetjcXDkMUzp6ag5rhL6LhClv4JJqWCt5GfvvnuWLcqIC_Lq88SQMZhd9sIgYvOBWJOpx1BhDufwk5-ymwiE6wdDLU7uYasJfOTMZi5QV5G2E/s400/Alan+Central+Park+again+NYM+M24+09-11-01.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;...bye then&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Need wins. On we go. I would like to say that the last 3 miles were a dance through Central Park among the leaves of a calm &amp;amp; mild autumn afternoon. But I can’t. It was a battle with myself. I kept expecting Karen to fly past me – that’s when I wasn’t thinking she had already finished. I have very little recollection actually. A few overtook me – including a bloke from Hull (I think) – and I overtook a few too, although not too many. Never have three little miles seemed so long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Mile 25 and we’re off 5th Ave at last and onto East Drive in Central Park, a gradual right-hander takes us round the edge of the Jackie Onassis Reservoir and then on down Cat Hill into mile 26. I had read about this earlier – there is a bronze panther entitled ‘Still Hunt’ perched on a rock somewhere here – but it failed to register with me today. There is &lt;em&gt;so much noise.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Central Park South. At one point, I was running in the gutter with the kerb grazing the outside of my right foot. I found it incredibly difficult to get out of the gutter, even to alter my direction by a few degrees so that I wouldn’t trip on the kerb. First came the thought that I must move or I’d fall. Then I had to concentrate really hard to make my feet go where I wanted them to. That few seconds made me realise how much more tired I was than ‘normally’. Then the right-hander into Central Park West, West Drive. In the home straight, there is less than half a mile to go. Most of it is uphill. I try to muster a sprint finish, and it feels like I have at least found something there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438990235160923682&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT8VUHVgcxnfYmDql_Il1R6imfvWL0l9ezOYWua7NFMmQh9W_pBcrJJQuOFaZgPp9v0s3Wk9rEG4sDa3t0V4y68fCUcwAoGQfXCw_2Gphzw0DLYdQcw080qob50pPGlaLqkGN1f7QVdBM/s400/NYM+26m+marker.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Finished. Stopped both watches. I am walking, very slowly. Lots of smiling people are telling me I did a great job. That I am amazing. I am awarded with my finishers medal, and hugged like a returning explorer. I have my photo taken by a smiling lady who also gives me a hug. I keep walking. I find myself in tears, then laughing to myself. Drinks. A red Gatorade. A blue one too. This ‘keep walking’ strategy is a good one, although tortuous for those actually doing the walking. Stop, and a small team of official race support crew appear at your elbow and (in some cases) lift you to your feet and get you on your way. Again. For some, this is just too much. You’ve been up since stupid o’clock, on your feet for over three hours and run 26.2miles and, well, you’d just like little sit down. No chance. Walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a re-union zone off to the left somewhere, but I haven’t reached my own UPS truck with my baggage on it yet. The trucks are parked in a huge line in descending running number order. Eventually I get there. More hugs from the two people I had left my bag with on Staten Island several hours ago. Did they recognise me? Of course not, they’re just doing their job. And they’re really good at it. They are there to smile, congratulate and sympathise, and they seem to do it with pride. I remember the moment. Take pride in doing whatever it is you’re there to do. Let it show. It affects people, in a good way. Ok. Let’s move. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;I take a chance and stop walking, waiting to see if Karen &amp;amp; John are around. Soon they come. Karen seems remarkably unaffected by it all, which I put down to her marathon experiences. She is telling me she was fine and flying until the last few miles, when her pace suddenly dropped and she felt she was going through the motions. And John, like me, is pleased to be finished. What I think we all need now is food, a shower and to find our friends and family. Julia would be not far behind, and we met up with Kevin a bit later. Halfway through the evening, I noticed that we were all spending a lot of time smiling at each other. As Kevin said then, we really are lucky people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438993855497723010&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIWlLAJDzxnYgY2WH1MeBOISpqIst0TH0Dx_itwwgUXtQqx44PdQOhebnVlYHwRa8ZYsuiU4rB05oux2tBSpNZxq9HndiCs9fcNS4zN5X5dqPYPe7WKO6o5N4XJMGSE2trKbEj4rRJcTQ/s400/NYM+2009+Finish+gate.jpg&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;...and it ends here&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is over. I wish it wasn’t. It was that good. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=2883778284908981030' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/2883778284908981030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/2883778284908981030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/02/been-long-time-comin.html' title='Been a Long Time Comin&#39;.....'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiru071jaOWGsHsO_e0cwbn_pul5BxqAXHtcs1Hppx230i7GndoF4MQq0VU53elsH5m6eaQxLKz3DbmpBL1v_04UjdGmWZAGLIldtFYkPb_qGxLS4O1fDqDy3HyuXO6Rn5AyscUy7Im-7U/s72-c/VN+Bridge+2.png" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-4262651000993480633</id><published>2010-01-03T13:58:00.007+00:00</published><updated>2010-01-03T14:29:15.350+00:00</updated><title type='text'>Brrrr2......</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSjxflo8_CVeq6r__iGqncbRs0yLqDozuJYFhv1zyT3vw2iyhTzubMvXc1WeyKegsN4Zsn9K75j5dywIB_kszSNCS6kKdIOAFhxFXH-OMFVmtxIM3xRwFKsOCPPUUgV22YrlyKnxGERXE/s1600-h/Heughscar030110-12.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422513108626313922&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSjxflo8_CVeq6r__iGqncbRs0yLqDozuJYFhv1zyT3vw2iyhTzubMvXc1WeyKegsN4Zsn9K75j5dywIB_kszSNCS6kKdIOAFhxFXH-OMFVmtxIM3xRwFKsOCPPUUgV22YrlyKnxGERXE/s320/Heughscar030110-12.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Eight Eden Runners &amp;amp; one guest turned up for the inaugral January Jape at Askham today although Julia arrived a little late for the start having run all the way from Penrith!! The runners were treated to a beautiful day with clear blue skies &amp;amp; spectacular views of the Lake District in full winter garb from the top of Heughscar. &lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDRQ26Wf6fRf2VL8bD_6E4dGolrFGWoJMS3fza_hWRl6gquhSRjDYiNrcxrawEcCElB-MzqQGB0y6JbHuYGUMe9jwg2fZnWgJER625QdRF7XLcoCVNptxwmBTZGZhJgEOfhaHOVu_hN5Ud/s1600-h/Heughscar030110-5.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422517277393206978&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDRQ26Wf6fRf2VL8bD_6E4dGolrFGWoJMS3fza_hWRl6gquhSRjDYiNrcxrawEcCElB-MzqQGB0y6JbHuYGUMe9jwg2fZnWgJER625QdRF7XLcoCVNptxwmBTZGZhJgEOfhaHOVu_hN5Ud/s320/Heughscar030110-5.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Racing appeared to quite competetive with route choice playing an important part in the final results and it was not without incident. Alan Marshall suffered a self inflicted ank&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQ2zA8y0qqTmH6N3GV3BkXMi600_g-IU8HB8J0_ySfVpybPcenn4fVZ8bhHxJB7DWwjILENKH7hC_hyoBPAl5xzbePVEWQF12Tk9Cau_uWrKYKCmP_7OsmGh_WWjQ7qsTs41QPS6rlV-s/s1600-h/Heughscar030110-1.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422516287082817986&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigQ2zA8y0qqTmH6N3GV3BkXMi600_g-IU8HB8J0_ySfVpybPcenn4fVZ8bhHxJB7DWwjILENKH7hC_hyoBPAl5xzbePVEWQF12Tk9Cau_uWrKYKCmP_7OsmGh_WWjQ7qsTs41QPS6rlV-s/s320/Heughscar030110-1.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;le injury after kicking himself ( I always thought this was a figure of speech rather than a physical act) and Craig drawing blood after &#39;skating on thin ice!&#39; (photo above)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;The overall winner was Mark Bissell with Gill Douglas first lady. (Full results on the discussion group thread.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;left&quot;&gt;Thank you to all those that turned up. Ian&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=4262651000993480633' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/4262651000993480633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/4262651000993480633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/01/brrrr2.html' title='Brrrr2......'/><author><name>Horney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15573784823558756285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-ynv9CMIXwk/SVzrqmaTLrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ffXqO81XnfY/S220/Tatras+028.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSjxflo8_CVeq6r__iGqncbRs0yLqDozuJYFhv1zyT3vw2iyhTzubMvXc1WeyKegsN4Zsn9K75j5dywIB_kszSNCS6kKdIOAFhxFXH-OMFVmtxIM3xRwFKsOCPPUUgV22YrlyKnxGERXE/s72-c/Heughscar030110-12.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-8514055074768187521</id><published>2010-01-01T16:14:00.002+00:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T16:30:37.933+00:00</updated><title type='text'>Brrrrr.......</title><content type='html'>Deep snow &amp;amp; icy conditions failed to deter at least 10 hardy Eden Runners taking part in the Nine Standards race today the 1st January 2010. It was certainly a wake up call for the body with sub zero temperatures &amp;amp; neck deep snow (if you were only 2ft tall or 50cm if you&#39;ve gone new fangled). As club we was done proud, as they say, with overall 4th &amp;amp; 5th males (Stu &amp;amp; Anth respectively), 1st mv40 (Stu again, possibly a taster of things to come), 3rd overall female (Anja Phoenix, hope you&#39;ve paid your subs) and Team prizes for both boys &amp;amp; girls.&lt;br /&gt;A special mention must go to Tony, who not normally a fell runner, put in a sterling effort in extreme condtions to finish still with a smile on his face.&lt;br /&gt;What a brilliant start to the New Year! Well done one &amp;amp; all.&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=8514055074768187521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/8514055074768187521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/8514055074768187521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2010/01/brrrrr.html' title='Brrrrr.......'/><author><name>Horney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15573784823558756285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-ynv9CMIXwk/SVzrqmaTLrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ffXqO81XnfY/S220/Tatras+028.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-3835963896738010095</id><published>2009-10-04T21:36:00.009+01:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T15:57:34.868+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Ian Hodgson Ups &amp; Downs!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYg89hlj1ZWdWGTWF9gIZdFwAnDs5zYu-wYy2GpnaSbLU4MCLBJSbIlFvfomsXq_qhyeyrYCPoli4f1J-GXeOLlQ5Ixz5ug0qmMqehkfIlJmpZPtHXJJscXFr6UdJXIER_sibzx9FO6Y0/s1600-h/DSCF2462.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388855779651619554&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYg89hlj1ZWdWGTWF9gIZdFwAnDs5zYu-wYy2GpnaSbLU4MCLBJSbIlFvfomsXq_qhyeyrYCPoli4f1J-GXeOLlQ5Ixz5ug0qmMqehkfIlJmpZPtHXJJscXFr6UdJXIER_sibzx9FO6Y0/s400/DSCF2462.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRkgOtb-mDIfg1Nazl_yNbbayaj0s3_phKK5ozb1HGvS_0W3-lDk8ok307QH7awqZLcLzDvytEw1PLwdYXJDhma2aEKYLAkOulH96YTN5tFY16D818tx7r6On8zVomgS12Bz9-NY2j9k/s1600-h/DSCF2465.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388855306237256642&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiRkgOtb-mDIfg1Nazl_yNbbayaj0s3_phKK5ozb1HGvS_0W3-lDk8ok307QH7awqZLcLzDvytEw1PLwdYXJDhma2aEKYLAkOulH96YTN5tFY16D818tx7r6On8zVomgS12Bz9-NY2j9k/s400/DSCF2465.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSUhbEWplidnyq1juDCK50S0fEkCmZ847PDegdLr5kKQZBB_XR3QsTiiJLevwvBdX9_JPKHtLop-wuScYGb4FeiKBrWk6XaLCGXNx7eS5vAWIi8eQhYdHaWvoJrgha8SDpa9btWyiDMKc/s1600-h/DSCF2468.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388854906161562338&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSUhbEWplidnyq1juDCK50S0fEkCmZ847PDegdLr5kKQZBB_XR3QsTiiJLevwvBdX9_JPKHtLop-wuScYGb4FeiKBrWk6XaLCGXNx7eS5vAWIi8eQhYdHaWvoJrgha8SDpa9btWyiDMKc/s400/DSCF2468.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCCskOc0xMFWPBhpyKTwHUfb-lzqbbkmlV3hjyJZqluRLYSFaHtJ7tKCUgmKbh93SWf9QrmOZR5KILj8QcDHzvKbw4mMgTLEgGkugueGVGXD51TTaf68M6gtZ69RA7avlLLYu4myrlp8/s1600-h/DSCF2469.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388854301827565890&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCCskOc0xMFWPBhpyKTwHUfb-lzqbbkmlV3hjyJZqluRLYSFaHtJ7tKCUgmKbh93SWf9QrmOZR5KILj8QcDHzvKbw4mMgTLEgGkugueGVGXD51TTaf68M6gtZ69RA7avlLLYu4myrlp8/s400/DSCF2469.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFRwX_oOjTnhW-P1GFblsAv_IbLJxvJBjQ14RmcBYq5eGQrWhyphenhyphenqkLAtUFtAA7C12bP8v5nofKnBgaAiPyGe7678_gjH8yRM9fER7m5A219qvG83wDxCkk3BKFfevMbw4nkwhkTM_xJ0s/s1600-h/DSCF2472.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388853872991348018&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFRwX_oOjTnhW-P1GFblsAv_IbLJxvJBjQ14RmcBYq5eGQrWhyphenhyphenqkLAtUFtAA7C12bP8v5nofKnBgaAiPyGe7678_gjH8yRM9fER7m5A219qvG83wDxCkk3BKFfevMbw4nkwhkTM_xJ0s/s400/DSCF2472.JPG&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from the no-show disappointment of Stage1 for the mixed team (and Me!), and me mixing up the dibbers (doh!) twas a grand day out in&#39;t fells again - Thanks to all those who ran, many battling adversity to put in some gutsy stage runs and setting some great PB times. Speaking personally, Derek and myself passed 10 teams on Stage3, were 2nd Vets and missed old vets record by 1minute - Dark Peak winning in a new record time! I was definitely feeling the burn on that climb trying to keep up with Derek (maybe not running stage1 was a blessing in disguise!). Thanks also to Sal &amp;amp; Gill who did us proud. Results on:- &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.sportident.co.uk/calender.php&quot;&gt;www.sportident.co.uk/calender.php&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=3835963896738010095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3835963896738010095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3835963896738010095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2009/10/ian-hodgson-ups-downs.html' title='Ian Hodgson Ups &amp; Downs!'/><author><name>Anth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13438174055691944352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYg89hlj1ZWdWGTWF9gIZdFwAnDs5zYu-wYy2GpnaSbLU4MCLBJSbIlFvfomsXq_qhyeyrYCPoli4f1J-GXeOLlQ5Ixz5ug0qmMqehkfIlJmpZPtHXJJscXFr6UdJXIER_sibzx9FO6Y0/s72-c/DSCF2462.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-1211157376344069671</id><published>2009-09-01T17:39:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-09-02T18:11:07.649+01:00</updated><title type='text'>MY TRI - THE PENRITH TRIATHLON</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur=&quot;try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}&quot; href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbr-FG9408oMnv7pFUx6ygG3P_HVkFh1E5Hr-a5Q8zvPpYKghoooHGu6WC0GuhhCLDmXXtQr_6oaxubf4A7_pINr18aeEosdsTHVr4iCic8pEbBHaikeK-0A6qxdRfHDmIfk-9UZvWjc8/s1600-h/IMG_5323.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img style=&quot;TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 276px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand&quot; id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376897637017903922&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbr-FG9408oMnv7pFUx6ygG3P_HVkFh1E5Hr-a5Q8zvPpYKghoooHGu6WC0GuhhCLDmXXtQr_6oaxubf4A7_pINr18aeEosdsTHVr4iCic8pEbBHaikeK-0A6qxdRfHDmIfk-9UZvWjc8/s400/IMG_5323.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, if anyone&#39;s seen the photo (not the one above- thats been taken by Stu after I&#39;d run a bit of weight off- thanks Stu!) taken of me in &#39;transition&#39;, you&#39;ll know that although I may not have been the best Chairperson of Eden Runners, then I&#39;m certainly the f...f....f..FATTEST!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photo has obviously either been &#39;photoshopped&#39; to place my head on &#39;some other fat blokes body&#39; or the photo&#39;s been accidentally digitally enhanced around the &#39;beer gut&#39; area, not discernible in real life!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I knew I was in trouble on Friday, having just decided to enter that day, when I couldn&#39;t get my bike booked into Arragons to get the dodgy gears sorted out until 7 September, hmmmmmm a little too late for my immediate needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Undeterred I dropped my entry off and awaited the big day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously I now know that forward planning is everything in the world of &#39;TRI&#39;, but being a novice, my advance planning involved: pumping up the bike tyres, and that was it. Oh, and my specialist TRI equipment preparation involved getting an old pair of shorts, threading a &#39;bit of string&#39; (technical term us TRIies use ) taken from a fancy dress longbow, through the place where the elastic had perished in the waistband, and cutting the bottoms off the pockets to &#39;reduce drag through the water&#39; (note the misplaced optimism that I&#39;d actually create enough forward momentum to cause &#39;drag&#39;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the big day, I&#39;d decided to wear contact lenses and hope they wouldn&#39;t come out in the water. Helpful advice from others made me realise that (a) they would and (b) I had to get some goggles. After shelling out another £8:50 for goggles (this was becoming a hugely expensive event!) I was ready!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not quite ready, because as I prepared for the swim (taking my shirt off) I was stung by a wasp with 5 minutes to go before the swim - AGONY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we were then, in the leisure pool (that&#39;s surely an oxymoron if ever there was one, whatever went on in those lanes wasn&#39;t leisure whatever way you looked at it, and I was looking at it through one good eye and a lot of water, flailing arms and legs etc etc).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next mishap - rinsing my new goggles waiting for our heat to start, a splash of water whipped my right contact lens up into the back of my eyelid where it stayed through the event - I eventually got it out at teatime! So, the advice about losing them in the water was complete nonsense - I thought I&#39;d never get the bloody thing out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After an eternity in transition- having seen the results I can only think I had time to build another bike whilst I was f***ing around getting my cycling/running gear on, it was off on the bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a farce! Due to the number on front/ number on back chaos I&#39;d opted for number on front and turn my shirt round for the cycle ride.......bad, bad move as my energy bar then my gel bag skittered onto the road from my now front facing rear shirt pockets, before I got to the corner at the Cross Keys, where incidentally, the small saddle bag with my spare inner tube also parted company with us, the way things were going, if bits continued to fall off there seemed to be a good chance that just me and the bike frame would be together by the time I hit Great Salkeld...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;d also realised I&#39;d forgotten to put on my &#39;specialist anti - fly sunglasses&#39;, and spent the entire ride waiting for the inevitable fly to hit my remaining and unprotected left eye, thus causing blindness and the inevitable crash ( lucky for me, I got away with it!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After another hilariously long transition - what had I been doing? I thought I&#39;d been quick, but the result times don&#39;t lie - had I sauntered off to chat to other idlers in transition- I don&#39;t think so; I did have to receive a telling off from the referee about taking my helmet off before I&#39;d racked my bike, and I did spend some time wondering what, exactly, did she think would fall from the sky in the middle of the astroturf onto my unprotected bonce that the helmet was meant to be protecting me from (incidentally, what was that wasp doing in the middle of an artificial football pitch with no flowers within hundreds of metres....?)- I set of to do the run, and very quickly that was it - EVENT COMPLETED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apart from the final bloody nail in the day, the icing on my fragile sponge cake, the dream topping on my angel delight - that bogging awful photograph!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strangely though, I think I might have another shot next year as I&#39;ve worked out that if I don&#39;t improve AT ALL in the main events - swimming, cycling and running, but knock seven and a half minutes off my transition times, I&#39;ll move up seventy six places in the standings to a very respectable position!&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=1211157376344069671' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/1211157376344069671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/1211157376344069671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-tri-penrith-triathlon.html' title='MY TRI - THE PENRITH TRIATHLON'/><author><name>Andy S</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05986204418985453142</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbr-FG9408oMnv7pFUx6ygG3P_HVkFh1E5Hr-a5Q8zvPpYKghoooHGu6WC0GuhhCLDmXXtQr_6oaxubf4A7_pINr18aeEosdsTHVr4iCic8pEbBHaikeK-0A6qxdRfHDmIfk-9UZvWjc8/s72-c/IMG_5323.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-6366615700169175814</id><published>2009-07-18T22:38:00.021+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T22:07:29.110+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sand, Sea and Sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color:#330099;&quot;&gt;Northumberland Coastal Run - 12 July 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;...for Karen H, who missed this day, of all days, due to being unwell. Better luck next time lass....&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359918923942135362&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsT7lM1oNFeQ2sbFpVHmVhZWH5y7kcUveB_79QPuLXyUDkZzeIUR90TsbP4Ap10PO7zdTmQngtTYjtkiCsxs7f-EWQM__INLznbw32zVyNBxDRmwaohZfxI3M77GDJPCgBwCSdjBv4qg/s400/Coquet+Island,+0730+09-07-12.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt; &lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;A nuclear submarine patrols the entrance to Alnmouth bay, Sunday 07.30am. Or could it be Coquet Island?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Alnmouth, 7.30am Sunday 12 July, 2009. Having been immaculately driven across the slumbering heartland of the True North, four of us leapt out of the car onto the beach-head dunes. Everyone I ever knew always stands and just looks at the sea at such a moment, as if recalling a time gone by when it was not called The Sea, but was Home. With time to admire the scenery, we looked for the finish line. And there it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359919896006581234&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCeefD7vm2Po2eVNpizYK8cmHil5wQXCGwLeIMz114hbg8tX6maHxzLclTT-91LEHY89JUUhgKlEjdd2PoyYtaI_byfY2mbo3tWjZcapnM5J6KTOaXXqNHZMkInJao2_6SRcHbwjdTPds/s320/P1000833.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....competely deserted. We would return several hours later, by which time the sea would have retreated, driven back by a tide of humankind. Nearly all of whom, eventually, would be smiling. We wandered up past the little golf course and through the streets of the village. Already there were runners, making calls from mobiles or buying newspapers. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBXtDf140Wu2pdEmhhSByLymvhn1kdvghNOfvFJocdpn-Eqkhc6RspUtS37bcEynH9k6yMyupW1CL0HhWcaqJdDjHGfEbjZ7GDHbb1PHJ77EVCk2K2JaCS1YIa64x8AuaEfqXGej8qB0/s1600-h/Pie+Night,+Red+Lion+Alnmouth,+09-07-12.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359920353802784322&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 305px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBXtDf140Wu2pdEmhhSByLymvhn1kdvghNOfvFJocdpn-Eqkhc6RspUtS37bcEynH9k6yMyupW1CL0HhWcaqJdDjHGfEbjZ7GDHbb1PHJ77EVCk2K2JaCS1YIa64x8AuaEfqXGej8qB0/s320/Pie+Night,+Red+Lion+Alnmouth,+09-07-12.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;..that’s club-night catering sorted for the foreseeable, then ....The Red Lion, Alnmouth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the bridge across the River Aln, inland towards the race carpark and the buses to the start. A helpful lercal chep advised us that registration was about a mile that way. Thanks mate - we knew already, but we must have appeared lost, or at least unsure of ourselves. No matter. The first bus left just before we arrived, but there were plenty of buses, and we stepped onto the next one. With the bus filling up, we were joined by Joanne &amp;amp; Craig, fresh from their Ironman exploits en France. They related some flavour of their experiences, which formed an interesting backdrop to my second breakfast of the day, the banana sandwich. Gill also arrived at the same time, having joined the thrang from an overnight in Bamburgh. The 30 minute journey passed quickly, with glimpses of Dunstanburgh along the way, and soon we were off the bus and walking down to the harbour at Beadnell. In a change to previous procedure, we collected race numbers and timing chips here. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359923488827717202&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYrR_jOXSGChUCkKdPG-OigJGic6-V_fLyPSyC9lPqH3e1esxpXoRZnzscYAt74mDUnuKzgF0mMxoB1_HWkBBeXTxV2ZD1RgwpoowvHrc2m461HmEa0w_IyZNpWL1FTf5sawlO3z832KA/s400/P1000839.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Looking south from Beadnell towards Dunstanburgh, about 4 miles as the arctic tern flies....or around 5 miles as the athlete runs. No Joanne, that’s not even halfway....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;All was well organised, and provided you could remember how to spell your surname, you had no reason to quibble. Those who were to insist on quibbling later were, I have to say, victims of their own late arrival at the start. This fate befell some of our very own Eden Runners, resulting in some medium-grade flapping in the carpark before the start.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Not so for SuperKev though. Having overnighted in Newcastle, and already tidily parked, he went through his pre-race routine like the model professional he has become. Soon we were assailed, in the nicest possible way, by Karen C and Sally, who shot off immediately to collect their numbers. Julia and Gill DS-D were, apparently, somewhere in the queue for the Ladies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359924730129731346&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 344px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNYtZZR0uCZA02ZFX1SHzdIk6YTIi6u93WGOhyphenhyphenVxrsKTVR1f7xuJKc9BB7lu0yZThxlpeen53lFuYKyD76MMDtdSCanJDz-H2bgie6NYOwsAoxsSVOICVHJ063GSwcUlhfrrSD90k-oqw/s400/P1000838.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Having registered, Gill treated us to a medley of sea-shanties on the harmonica, which had John practising his robotic dance moves....&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359926635161073154&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_E3eI3vng0OUqx-kpy-J5qWdBbmuk2zV0K-QEQFTt-QovZkp8G-RmQ4XQL-tMaid3b9aGDUGU6x1TZpR0BF8jaPFtXbLwngDPMoqA_yEjorZgDND_7M5ag6r7zIdDhKNsQPRm_wxpLdk/s400/P1000841.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt; &lt;span style=&quot;font-size:78%;&quot;&gt;Cheer up Tony man....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Gradually, through the discarding of layers of clothing, we became recognisable as runners. Some chose trail shoes, some said road shoes would be best. Several of us went for a pre-race coffee, going against strict protocol in some cases. Would it help, or hinder? We had our own on-team nutrition expert who gave a brief but dazzling insight into the importance of continuous hydration. We analysed, obviously, the various methods of attaching the timing chips to the shoes. Kevin was, if I recall, the only left-footer. Such interesting things kept us occupied as we waited for Julia and Gill DS-D, who were apparently in the queue for the Ladies. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;We were surprised by the appearance of the famous motorcyclist, Ian Horne, totally overdressed for the occasion in full leathers. Team support and photographer was to be his role today, carried off with elan as you would expect from Horney. We made sure he was aware of our refuelling requirements, to be taken onboard at Craster.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Bags were zipped and fastened and placed carefully on the baggage bus. Empty coffee cups were placed in bins. Club vests of every colour combination clung together in huddles or wove their way through the crowds. A strange calm descended on the gathering, infusing us with an intangible sense of serenity. Except that, Julia and Gill DS-D were still stuck in the queue for the ladies..... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Suddenly, they were both among us with tales of omigod I thought we’d never make it, etc etc. And then the ‘5 minutes!’ shout was heard, and we funnelled through the dunes and onto the sand to the start flags. First part of challenge – get to the start line without your shoes filling with sand. This start is a bit like the Aintree Grand National, but without the tape. Hundreds of runners strung out across the sand - some already aiming for the very edge of the water to find the line of least distance, others just admiring the view. I laughed out loud at the lady to my right who said she was determined not to get her feet wet. I nearly told her to get back on the bus. She has no chance, I thought, of staying dry. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Whilst running through the Beadnell Bay surf (well, nearly) I must have passed Mr Paul Flynn, apparently there and shouting greetings to members of his former ER cohort. After maybe half a mile I became aware of the &lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_K5Rm9ZflBH9Fy2jlIhgVa1_KvZ4D5SB10hf7nBJTmzGf4fEXSVPWCFkgl58jFCeeYH0xF4TW50CJnqhe8UlSJYodD8rvJqNVRGOo2SwvbS54MR_GL2eI_dyGlY_jpvLmCGJjUB9p7l8/s1600-h/arctic+tern.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359934019205621362&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 137px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 91px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_K5Rm9ZflBH9Fy2jlIhgVa1_KvZ4D5SB10hf7nBJTmzGf4fEXSVPWCFkgl58jFCeeYH0xF4TW50CJnqhe8UlSJYodD8rvJqNVRGOo2SwvbS54MR_GL2eI_dyGlY_jpvLmCGJjUB9p7l8/s320/arctic+tern.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;sound of hundreds (or maybe thousands) of terns on and over the wet sand between us and the dunes. Silvery white, forked tails, little daggers for beaks, all protesting at (or maybe celebrating) our presence. Into an offshore headwind, and under the warm sun, we streamed south. It was interesting running – obviously lots of sand, but more rocks to skip round or jump off than I’d recalled. And water of course – impossible not to be soaked almost immediately, but refreshing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We scrambled off the beach at the south end of Newton Links, through the dunes and quickly onto tarmac, skirting the mysteriously named ‘Football Hole (I think it’s where the ‘real’ NUFC has been tipped off the cliff, to be replaced by the current ‘car-crash’ version) towards High Newton, where the route veers sharp left and on to Low Newton by-the-Sea. I think we passed a pub here, which if true makes this surely one of the most idyllic pub locations anywhere. At 3 miles we are back on the sand at Embleton Bay, which sweeps south &amp;amp; east and is dominated by the somehow forlorn (&lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; think) but inspiring ruins of Dunstanburgh itself. This stretch of sand is over a mile and a half, and my own race begins to become a struggle around this point. Anyway, off the beach, reed bunting singing somewhere to my right, along the undulating trodden path above the rocks, ending this section with a bit of a climb up around the landward side of the castle, away from the clamouring kittiwakes on the cliffs at Castle Point. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Still on trodden paths, the west walls of the castle above us, Craster soon hoves into view. Lots of support through the village. Special thanks to the tiny little girl who told me ‘..don’t worry there’s drinks round the corner’. There weren’t. She lied. I believed a two year old and was let down. Hmm. No wonder we all end up cynics.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Off the tarmac, onto clifftop path again, circumnavigating Black Hole, we ran on past Cullernose Point to rejoin the road just north of Howick. Then it’s onto grassy lonning as we head past Rumbling Kern, a drop down over a footbridge at Sugar Sands, a short sharp climb up and past Howdiemont Sands, taking care to note the rocks at Longhoughton Steel, Red Ends, and Boulmer Steel and onto the road before racing past the lifeboat station at Boulmer. Treading tarmac for another mile, eventually we were sent left and down a few steps onto the sand again. With a few drops of rain in the headwind, the skies visibly brightened as I removed my sunglasses. After running about a mile the direct line turned slightly to the west again, and we could actually see the finish flags – but they&#39;re a real long way off. Spectator numbers increased towards the finish, and a young lad of maybe 9 or 10 ran out to join his dad to my left on the run in. His little brother was left trailing in their wake, his plaintive wails lost on the breeze. Even though I was using every ounce of what I had left, I couldn’t make any ground on them. Ian is there near the finish trying to hide behind a little camera, but he is spotted. I stop running. A woman with a pair of pliers is waiting to remove something from me. I have no energy left to resist, so I’m relieved to discover that she only wants the timing chip. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359942171280102562&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4FU1NMquI_2mznfj6W6SYwwQp1lQBHVD4ykZD95SUfyODVWu_K0iSoYDObifxvn_ytBcXb4mFU4ZPsVDgZjqn1Wo1dfs_sVg12tr9bDQcNuQMhVxkJOnz3I6cBj2HJHzNg-vs2gE5ElE/s400/Driftwood,+Alnmouth+09-07-12.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt; &lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;The meltemi which blows offshore at this time of year soon began to cool us down, so those race t-shirts were a bonus. With such a large field there is always plenty of support for other competitors coming from many of those who have already finished. Our ER competitors today were John, Andy Wack, Tony, Kevin, Julia, Gill D, Sally, Gill DS-D, Karen C, Joanne &amp;amp; Craig. And me. We collect our bags from the buses over the golf course, and decide to reconvene in Warkworth, a few miles to the south, for refreshments. After some local parking-related difficulties, Craig led us to a fantastic courtyard cafe, where we lounged in the sun, refuelling with scones, lemon cake and that perfect finish, a mug of tea. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;In fact, although well over an hour after I’d stopped running, I thought that this was easily the best part of the race. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;Next year anyone?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=6366615700169175814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6366615700169175814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6366615700169175814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2009/07/sand-sea-and-sky.html' title='Sand, Sea and Sky'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOsT7lM1oNFeQ2sbFpVHmVhZWH5y7kcUveB_79QPuLXyUDkZzeIUR90TsbP4Ap10PO7zdTmQngtTYjtkiCsxs7f-EWQM__INLznbw32zVyNBxDRmwaohZfxI3M77GDJPCgBwCSdjBv4qg/s72-c/Coquet+Island,+0730+09-07-12.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-6383719777774201640</id><published>2009-06-21T23:19:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T14:38:50.732+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMmikZnvM1SkG0_nOc4wWBCxOvtyWpqplH9NiMPJ4RwEiuXSFfVAV0rdgWXu43DOAu7-GsuvZMbz-gJs_iYjXthQD1DxNSFu8JYlWflSgqEIrl8Fz-QyTZgQuPCVNDzRp9G5PlyACzEBo/s1600-h/Freckleton+2009+Tony+L+yet+again.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353253188386361106&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMmikZnvM1SkG0_nOc4wWBCxOvtyWpqplH9NiMPJ4RwEiuXSFfVAV0rdgWXu43DOAu7-GsuvZMbz-gJs_iYjXthQD1DxNSFu8JYlWflSgqEIrl8Fz-QyTZgQuPCVNDzRp9G5PlyACzEBo/s400/Freckleton+2009+Tony+L+yet+again.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;color:#000000;&quot;&gt;The Colossus of Roads&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;Championship Race number 10. Freckleton. It sounds distinctly unimpressive. Certainly not the sort of place-name to strike fear into the heart of the hardened (northern) runner. And yet, we all wondered, what will it be like to run at 2pm on the longest day of the year, on an almost totally flat, tarmac course? What heights of endurance, what depths of determination would we need to fathom in order to, as we call it, ‘get round in one piece’. None of us, except Karen (and that was when she was just a bairn) had run this course before. Entries had closed weeks before, leading to frustration among those who missed the cut. Last chance for 13.1m PB points this side of summer, and apprehension outweighed expectation (16tons v 12.1kg) at the pre-race ER gathering. Tony, alone, was hopeful of doing &lt;em&gt;something, &lt;/em&gt;but still kept his powder dry. I think everyone else thought of survival, in the mental sense at least.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;The omens weren’t good - but then, they rarely are. We all oozed negativity on the drive down the M6. On arrival, we discovered a bowling green-flat sports field complete with attached funfair. I hoped, out loud, that the helter-skelter would be included on the course, perhaps adding excitement to the usual desperate gallop to the finish. And there was an enormous, perfectly straight and evenly measured carparking grid marked out in white lines on the field. That, and the pre-race instructions’ insistence that we use FOUR safety pins (no, not two, and certainly not &lt;em&gt;three&lt;/em&gt;), gave the distinct impression that this was not so much a race as an exercise in mass manipulation. And woe betide anyone who even considered folding their number. Suitably frightened in case the undercover shoe-lacing stasi were watching, we milled around on the field, each going through his/her own version of a ‘proper warm up’. Yes, you know what I mean. A little slow running, a stop to tighten your laces, a little more gentle running. A pause as you pass the toilets queue, pondering whether you feel the need (again) . You don’t, but as you stand at the start, you wish you had. All this to a pre-race soundtrack which included every song I can think of with the word run’ or ‘running’ in the title. Yes, including ‘Keep On Running’, which I’d got sick of hearing by about 1974. Why do they have to DO that? Maybe it’s just me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the upside, today we had the pleasure of running in the same race as Dr Ron Hill, famous for some fast endurance stuff and some clothing. He was deservedly given the big build up by the race director at the start, and I for one felt pathetic just listening to what he’s done in this thing we call running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather was decidedly on the warm side, and as runner turned to runner to wish each other good luck, we all quietly regretted that we weren’t able to find some other way to fill this particularly muggy Sunday afternoon. No matter, we were off. There were 5 drinks stations en route and man, were they necessary. There were also showers organised for those who were overheating to cool themselves off under. Of course I misunderstood their purpose, and was shoved out of the way at the second one before I’d even got the conditioner properly rinsed out of my hair. Undeterred by this setback, I picked up my gel and towels and sped off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353483034157023938&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8Ja887hOqprCdaLfVrQyvJYEg6VDOE8712G7rGEH2qBrHsN7v70z9TStP3_G1rn6TU4NyQ_vUcWqQuh4WY3kfANkVcZhyphenhyphen36OdZcHaOb6ts8rgf41l2MT356PGFj-cT6dlxLmV95DWh8/s320/Freckleton+2009+Julia+K.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;I got sent the wrong way at around Mile 5 which caused me some amusement, but with no change in gradient expected anywhere, it was about trying to hold your pace and position. It soon became the usual attritional battle between tiring limbs and flagging willpower &amp;amp; concentration. After 9 miles of running mostly on country lanes there came a long, almost straight section on path beside a main road back towards Freckleton itself. This was the most difficult part for me. I was lucky to be running with a bloke in a yellow vest who seemed determined to run away from me, so keeping him in check was helpful. Why are these people so &lt;em&gt;competitive?&lt;/em&gt; It&#39;s only a bit of fun after all.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353478545494091314&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DRdqzUmsoA4nZmF4w9zzwjLjakcNmNfFYSXXyvYjeXTs4UIyBpueMtzqg_TmRkANnesEHitM_ee9VM2untUoJYiA3k-DZ3WETgUYaPaYDrw9bCAFCIkFZlXC3ld4yWJaH43y_Z3eb6I/s320/Freckleton+2009+John+B.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn&#39;t matter how many races I run, I still convince myself that I can&#39;t possibly run any further, and intend just to run to that corner or that tree or whatever the nearest visible hiding place is, and then quietly sneak off and lie down. Does anybody else do this? Thought not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the finish, there is sadly no helter-skelter ride, only that familiar mix of exhaustion and relief. And heat. But no PB. There are free bananas, and the race memento is a towel rather than the ubiquitous t-shirt. Other ERs begin to appear. Karen (no PB either), then John (nope), then Julia (nah, not today), then Tony. He battered his way over the finish line a full 6 mins and 30 secs faster than previously. That&#39;s very nearly 30 seconds a mile faster. Quite a performance. And 15 extra points in the bag.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CxuR_EnJYE9K4I9Yy8mPZE52n_MDy1oDVXYnWnPRjKkPg4QoOEX5syKPL4anowxaB_c4A2r7-16lDSVam2xfRZOSb3jDaUHYY9wO3vocuZruBYVBTDhc71DfsHCrbwOnF7dowUvxgD8/s1600-h/Freckleton+2009+Alan+M.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353481812341541778&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 85px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CxuR_EnJYE9K4I9Yy8mPZE52n_MDy1oDVXYnWnPRjKkPg4QoOEX5syKPL4anowxaB_c4A2r7-16lDSVam2xfRZOSb3jDaUHYY9wO3vocuZruBYVBTDhc71DfsHCrbwOnF7dowUvxgD8/s200/Freckleton+2009+Alan+M.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbzJzMr6_ktdoAqz6tsKSBTcdBygWJmnaESjWA1zWtJfAJ_j8lucRzGSpa2nqRc94oAmWrzKh3TngoUCzQAtlmdOUGmtsP6N9Q7Jf2JPJnk2An_uUejnNyPEAyuwHjqlANljirXP7XYM/s1600-h/Freckleton+2009+Kev+W.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353482494592815842&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 85px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGbzJzMr6_ktdoAqz6tsKSBTcdBygWJmnaESjWA1zWtJfAJ_j8lucRzGSpa2nqRc94oAmWrzKh3TngoUCzQAtlmdOUGmtsP6N9Q7Jf2JPJnk2An_uUejnNyPEAyuwHjqlANljirXP7XYM/s200/Freckleton+2009+Kev+W.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353482169519143490&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 96px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 128px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjedv9dSTCJwHV0LLl9NI8giQ8rRWlssZX7ydwcgVXIB3_exSJVE1tbOxrnu9Z9eKznzPmqgDq5qNdn3qLv1m8U8qFKML8FcaY1_7NBNF8cmnf-OPD55t1eHzHTjmgPyWKgOWJRMpngHkU/s200/Freckleton+2009+Karen+H.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;We awaited SuperKev&#39;s arrival slumped in a heap on the grass, exchanging tales of woe and regret, but at the same time pleased to be there. Kevin finished, clearly not feeling well, having battled through the heat with great determination. But again, no PB. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;So we wound our way back out of Freckleton to the M55, Tony&#39;s PB points stashed in the boot. Today, having been there and done it, I resolved that I would make sure that next time would be better. And that, I think, is what makes me keep coming back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align=&quot;justify&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family:trebuchet ms;&quot;&gt;For the record, Tony would go on to race twice more in the next six days. And in the second one, he racked up another 15 PB points. Truly, a good week. But, why do these people have to be so c&lt;em&gt;ompetitive&lt;/em&gt;? It&#39;s only a bit of fun after all.... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=6383719777774201640' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6383719777774201640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/6383719777774201640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2009/06/introducing.html' title='Introducing....'/><author><name>Alan M</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16302403596234494553</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMmikZnvM1SkG0_nOc4wWBCxOvtyWpqplH9NiMPJ4RwEiuXSFfVAV0rdgWXu43DOAu7-GsuvZMbz-gJs_iYjXthQD1DxNSFu8JYlWflSgqEIrl8Fz-QyTZgQuPCVNDzRp9G5PlyACzEBo/s72-c/Freckleton+2009+Tony+L+yet+again.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-117327008372299759</id><published>2009-05-25T22:06:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T22:15:49.906+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hellvelyn Fellrace &quot;The Joy of Pain&quot;</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgJ4Qeauh2TpHtV-qY4L-mBbrM2Oi2RHt_vhnddcSrlDx72iXT8EzcGlUZZ18wy6QPQrUT1Rb-a2uotXuQkzrNqZ2suhAlgnHfNVeKlLIu5QJbIAJWkudp6OisMVLPNFS2JUhToolMQQ/s1600-h/helvellyn1.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339873110230009442&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgJ4Qeauh2TpHtV-qY4L-mBbrM2Oi2RHt_vhnddcSrlDx72iXT8EzcGlUZZ18wy6QPQrUT1Rb-a2uotXuQkzrNqZ2suhAlgnHfNVeKlLIu5QJbIAJWkudp6OisMVLPNFS2JUhToolMQQ/s400/helvellyn1.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGT-UhfrACUIMxOxW3jp2pDxTCKKtgqkbqR_Db4SF5bY2dFS2KjVdIczuFVewFomWUJKgy3KMvkG6E-nOedO1qKxuxFQTOve-Pn40Yr4GRe8VMiVH9uqa0DxGqefNnhDG61zdZfIRImG0/s1600-h/helvellyn2.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339872491287822450&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGT-UhfrACUIMxOxW3jp2pDxTCKKtgqkbqR_Db4SF5bY2dFS2KjVdIczuFVewFomWUJKgy3KMvkG6E-nOedO1qKxuxFQTOve-Pn40Yr4GRe8VMiVH9uqa0DxGqefNnhDG61zdZfIRImG0/s400/helvellyn2.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziSpUsgNwq7pqNQ8KM-7_l4GI3uma3Jym8qyN5oyEdEh-Y17p2GNMiu_kwuHPlhnfq6xC1D-ZfruhYdXGUNJ2ZrgpBojxuSvoCmzVwtr_iqJ6_VbciI2A7wq-Ikdb34pL1q2medWkffk/s1600-h/helvellyn3.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339872076274957378&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziSpUsgNwq7pqNQ8KM-7_l4GI3uma3Jym8qyN5oyEdEh-Y17p2GNMiu_kwuHPlhnfq6xC1D-ZfruhYdXGUNJ2ZrgpBojxuSvoCmzVwtr_iqJ6_VbciI2A7wq-Ikdb34pL1q2medWkffk/s400/helvellyn3.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-QMq0-0K2xmwrp3C9E5tc8lKasQq0EdaZ5JERovUXjJvHw90OIrfJJMvFQrMWU0SoHQCTNsDYuMGDGj1Awy-TaF2fFFni0Bq35BzNr0yFsWKYrIMrUpRmLNej-3EETbBPpaACVooeMo/s1600-h/helvellyn4.JPG&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339871506431997954&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju-QMq0-0K2xmwrp3C9E5tc8lKasQq0EdaZ5JERovUXjJvHw90OIrfJJMvFQrMWU0SoHQCTNsDYuMGDGj1Awy-TaF2fFFni0Bq35BzNr0yFsWKYrIMrUpRmLNej-3EETbBPpaACVooeMo/s400/helvellyn4.JPG&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sunburn,Burst blisters, scratches all over my legs and a bruised coccix (don&#39;t ask!) - what a great race!&lt;br /&gt;Just to add to Ian&#39;s entry - more runner&#39;s-eye-view piccies&lt;br /&gt;1. THAT climb and descent from St Johns (ouch!)&lt;br /&gt;2. Nice view over to Thirlmere&lt;br /&gt;3. Getting rocky underfoot on way up - what a skyline!&lt;br /&gt;4. Post-race tea &amp;amp; cakes anyone (Yummy)&lt;br /&gt;Good turnout for such intimidating terrain, and I&#39;m going to have to watch that Stu Stoddart, he was breathing down my neck on this one.&lt;br /&gt;Ant&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=117327008372299759' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/117327008372299759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/117327008372299759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2009/05/hellvelyn-fellrace-joy-of-pain.html' title='Hellvelyn Fellrace &quot;The Joy of Pain&quot;'/><author><name>Anth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13438174055691944352</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgJ4Qeauh2TpHtV-qY4L-mBbrM2Oi2RHt_vhnddcSrlDx72iXT8EzcGlUZZ18wy6QPQrUT1Rb-a2uotXuQkzrNqZ2suhAlgnHfNVeKlLIu5QJbIAJWkudp6OisMVLPNFS2JUhToolMQQ/s72-c/helvellyn1.JPG" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4040607627843025318.post-3191012044129650385</id><published>2009-05-24T21:19:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T01:19:53.135+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Helvelyn Fell Race</title><content type='html'>A spectacularly sunny day saw 5 lads &amp;amp; 1 lass from Eden runners line up for the start of the Helvelyn fell race, a new race for us all apart for the old hand pcso Labram. The race starts with a near vertical ascent up onto Calf Crag, how steep did not become apparent til the end when we had to descend it to the finish. It didn&#39;t take long for me to assume my usual position in the pack &amp;amp; spent most of the race trying to keep ahead of Anja and up with Shaun Hardisty who was trying to keep up with Steve Hartley with Stuart Stoddart &amp;amp; Anth way ahead out of sight.&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5njNFN0vscnlA_xWWRyOiG1LXkQdlGTkRYT9Veuj_JSLoyOCfBgpANkc_ss074Ak86X46fFudAH2HUoLWiwYyj7BOQji9p-AYdDkIGZbZUuYH7GFGqx0WiD9X5dXMhCBSS9Y9EhcVDzCn/s1600-h/Helvelyn+race09+007.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339492334693937650&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5njNFN0vscnlA_xWWRyOiG1LXkQdlGTkRYT9Veuj_JSLoyOCfBgpANkc_ss074Ak86X46fFudAH2HUoLWiwYyj7BOQji9p-AYdDkIGZbZUuYH7GFGqx0WiD9X5dXMhCBSS9Y9EhcVDzCn/s200/Helvelyn+race09+007.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZV9Ft8FYl09fFE786D19DM_7XKhOHifdCyJhprFNhM5FYpHAHhH4xCGA86qCUzToIBsGSLcwxlhPtLHUSptUx2N0yhYNLquxmw9bnkF8s406Zm2TIeBxx1C8Q93YtG9-4xkegqFw2JP0/s1600-h/Helvelyn+race09+010.jpg&quot;&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339493191538339634&quot; style=&quot;FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVZV9Ft8FYl09fFE786D19DM_7XKhOHifdCyJhprFNhM5FYpHAHhH4xCGA86qCUzToIBsGSLcwxlhPtLHUSptUx2N0yhYNLquxmw9bnkF8s406Zm2TIeBxx1C8Q93YtG9-4xkegqFw2JP0/s200/Helvelyn+race09+010.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339492824119661890&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjap_dHnTEa8Wp5QpglOhP4lnOC_HA9fxqdozSH0-jfMMbcD0vHdApnnEl0wWSseXq1Os6g0KZrXDR3dm-liSf2d9ZqMgFIvLhgLuuD8G2uTBirGTUfCtxn0eTbH4VDWmEE6VqIiahJbR8t/s200/Helvelyn+race09+009.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It was a well organised but physically hard race however Keswick AC had the foresight to post a marshall on the summit of Helvelyn just in case any of the competitors didn&#39;t know where they had come from.&lt;img id=&quot;BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339494529805004306&quot; style=&quot;DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center&quot; alt=&quot;&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-FDyEAraVn_74pmjUduDzaTn7y-ZfRMIuZoLqjBNFhrWaE6G2aAEVAhH2GH0aZdzZRCqT44PgfqD7ay_82vQ7t2NbB9fBSFA85q4OTtZBIErCBEXHjjF_vqx1xfYp3raIr2FkkvOzRBB/s400/Helvelyn+race09+011.jpg&quot; border=&quot;0&quot; /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of random thoughts crossed my mind after I finished the race....I can&#39;t wait to see the crims in Carlisle trying to run away from Anth, why are my legs all wobbly &amp;amp; how am I going to get those grass stains off my backside..... well it was a very steep descent!! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Results were&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anth 17th 1:59:51&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Stuart 20th 2:00:27&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Steve 60th 2:16:26&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Shaun 80th 2:21:35&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Me 93rd 2:27:05&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anja 102nd 2:30:04 &amp;amp; 9th lady&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;blogger-post-footer&quot;&gt;yes&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4040607627843025318&amp;postID=3191012044129650385' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3191012044129650385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4040607627843025318/posts/default/3191012044129650385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://edenrunner.blogspot.com/2009/05/helvelyn-fell-race.html' title='Helvelyn Fell Race'/><author><name>Horney</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15573784823558756285</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-ynv9CMIXwk/SVzrqmaTLrI/AAAAAAAAAA4/ffXqO81XnfY/S220/Tatras+028.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5njNFN0vscnlA_xWWRyOiG1LXkQdlGTkRYT9Veuj_JSLoyOCfBgpANkc_ss074Ak86X46fFudAH2HUoLWiwYyj7BOQji9p-AYdDkIGZbZUuYH7GFGqx0WiD9X5dXMhCBSS9Y9EhcVDzCn/s72-c/Helvelyn+race09+007.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>

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