|Throw 'em away? They've only done 600 miles|
After all the excitement of Le Tour last week, nothing very newsworthy seems to have happened in the seven days since. Well, not in my neck of the woods, so I'm struggling to find any remotely interesting titbits to update my blog with. I've been running, of course, though I was almost barred from doing so when my wonderful partner discovered the state of the New Balance MT 101's I've been happily wearing for the past 600 miles or so, and was about to wear again. I've mentioned previously they're my all time favourite shoe which NB discontinued some time ago but, by public demand, are re-instating again early next year. I've been trying to make an old pair last until the advent of the new ones but was instructed to throw them in the bin before I did myself a mischief. It's hard to say goodbye to old friends but thought it prudent to do as I was told. After all, there wasn't much tread left on them and holes at the side were almost big enough for my foot to slip out of!
|Back in my garden, a bee feeding on the astrantia....|
So, for last week's three runs, amounting to 21 miles, I ran in a half abandoned pair of Inov-8 Roclites that felt a bit clumpy after the more minimal 101's. To add to that minor discomfort, it was hot too, in the mid 70's, resulting in vest and headband becoming totally saturated with good old fashioned sweat (I've heard of people consulting their doctor about such things). On Saturday's five mile run I removed the soaking vest and tucked it into the belt of my bumbag for the last couple of miles back into the village. It later transpired my bare-chested figure had become a topic of conversation at a locally held garden party later that afternoon. I hope their comments were favourable ones!
Sunday was another hot day. Or is it that in my dotage I'm less able to cope with rising temperatures? I'd to remove my jacket in Church amidst much mopping of the brow which sadly affected concentration on
an excellent sermon by our newly ordained minister - Rev Heather Houlton. Yet some of her words - about freedom of the Spirit to undertake tasks God created us to do - stuck in my mind as I jogged up Hebden Ghyll on a ten mile circuit to Mossdale an hour later. It was stifling for the first confined couple of miles but a welcome breeze cooled my body as I plodded over open moorland to the 1,500ft contour near the half way point. From thereon I was able to unleash quite a fast pace over the next three miles, down into Mossdale, over Kelber, past Bare House and along the rocky lane to Yarnbury where the old legs eventually ran out of steam as the temperature rose again. Embarrassingly, I'd to walk a few short sections over the last mile or so but managed a late burst of speed back through the village, as far as our back door, in case anyone happened to be looking. When clad in shorts and vest I feel self-conscious about being seen walking!
|Wild thyme - brightening my day as I ran up Hebden Ghyll....|
|Marathon trophies - seven category wins from eight races...|
So that's about it, except for nothing more than reasons of vanity I'll post a picture that goes back to earlier marathon years, recording achievements for which I'm feeling justifiably proud. In all I ran eight marathons, the first of which when I was 55 years old, and was first in my age category in seven of the eight, a record many runners would be proud of. The eighth, when I finished third, was a bit 'iffy' but I wont go into that. Marathons were my forte and I sometimes regret not having found out sooner. After finishing the first, the 'Pennine' with its 2,000ft of ascent in a comfortable 3:30:04, I felt sure a sub 3 hour marathon was possible on a flatter course. And so it proved to be, though it was six years later when I'd moved into my sixties. After a second London win, in 2:53:04, I decided to rest on my laurels and call it a day for there was little likelihood of ever beating that time. Besides, I was disgusted with the meaningless London medals, received many weeks after the event, neither of which were engraved to record category wins, or with anything at all to indicate what they were for. And that was it. I'm afraid London left a bad taste in my mouth that still lingers after almost twenty years. On the other hand, The Pennine marathon with its rolling hills, friendly people and great prizes was the catalyst that launched a running mindset from which I've never recovered. And I hope I never do....