How long is your finger?

Like most Grumpy Old Men, I suppose I do resent paying my TV licence fee and even more so when I hear some of the tut that escapes from the air waves, supposedly in the name of music. Indeed, I truly despair when I hear some of the stuff put out by our public service broadcaster on the wireless. I'm not hankering for a return to the days of Two-Way Family Favourites (which, if I do recall, from my student days, became the title of a rather interesting party game involving a couple of sisters from Gateshead), Tony Blackburn and the Jimmy Clitheroe Show. No, what makes me chuck coffee cups at the radio is listening to those News Numpties obviously struggling to make a story out of what is, essentially, a complete non-news story. This is particularly common on BBC Local Radio stations which seem only too willing to have live link-ups and half-hourly updates 'from our reporter on the spot' simply when Mrs Beeston from Crawley reports the loss of her flippin' budgie.

But occasionally - just occasionally - our finest broadcaster spits out something that makes me put said coffee cup down gingerly rather than propel it at speed towards the source of the tosh. And yesterday the ‘Ron’ household experienced such a rarity.

I was at my desk trying to get the back off my Garmin with a spoon to try and recalibrate the heart rate readings when the Numptie reported a story about some researchers from Germany having discovered the secret of the athletic performance of women - apparently it is all down to the size of their wedding ring finger!
I kid you not - take a look at the report for yourself if you don't believe me http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/4202199.stm.

I was immediately struck by the opening paragraph of the BBC story which reads: "Spatial skills such as map reading and parking may be difficult for some women because they had too little testosterone in the womb." Now that's a load of Latin for a start because in my experience both these skills are sorely lacking primarily because of said gender's complete inability to distinguish between left and right.

But, apparently, having discovered this fact, the researchers then decided to measure the length of the wedding ring finger in the women they had tested. ….
Now – if you will, just run that past me again. So, they find out that the Half Share in the House can't tell Port from Starboard. So then they say, "Right, best check the length of her finger then"?

Well, fair play to them I thought. I'll put it to the test.

So I popped down to the local Spar just before 9 o'clock when the local mothers are dragging their pre-school brats back home having dropped off little Asbo at Primary School. Experience round my neck of the woods seems to suggest that that's the best time to meet women in tracksuits - when they call in for their breakfast Woodbines and Double Chocolate Muffins around school dropping-off time.

I have to report though that my mission failed.

I asked three such women if I could have a look at their wedding ring finger "to see how quick you are?" That was my first mistake. My second was not having put on my Dunlop Green Flash before venturing out - and I'm afraid, from a standing start, I was just not quick enough. My God, these Female Eunuchs can cover 100 metres in 12 seconds dead without knocking the ash of their Woodbines. Thank God I'm not due to come up against specimens like that in 2012. Mind you I'll not be doing the Shot Putt anyway.

Fortunately the Spar does sell Elastoplast so as I write to you now I'm feeling pretty sore and looking not dissimilar to Stevie Wonder on the day he decided to shave after a night on the Harveys Best. And I’m rueing the day I ever put ear to radio.

Anyway back to my Olympic Training Schedule. Although there are still five years left before I enter the final weeks of my 2012 Olympic Marathon programme, I'm fully aware that the time spent now investing in my health, well-being and fitness will pay dividends when I turn that corner on the Mall and race down the final few hundred metres with Ethiopians, Kenyans and Chinese floundering in my wake.
I know you'll be keen to hear how training has gone this week - so, what have I achieved?

Well, after the half marathon in Luxembourg last weekend I decided that recovery time was important. Paula Radcliffe takes a few months off after a race. “What does she know?” I hear you shout. And yes, you’re quite right – at least I’ve finished every marathon I’ve entered (three actually!). But she’s quite a nippy sort of bird so I’m taking a leaf out of her book and I've taken the week off. Instead, I’ve been concentrating on some of the mental aspects of my race strategy.

I’ve now convinced myself that a Gold Medal in 2012 is all but in the bag.

Oh - and I've reviewed my race kit.

I'm coming to the conclusion that my kit - vis Dunlop Green Flash gollies, Millets Coolmax Cotton socks, a pair of Trekker Khaki shorts and quality St Michaels Singlet - whilst attracting some attention from sartorial admirers - might not be quite trendy enough. You see, I'm a cutting edge kind of guy and whilst I'm not always at the head of the fashion strasse I certainly don't want to be stranded down the couture cul-de-sac. So, having discussed my options with support team members I'm going to wear the stretchy and rather fetching black skin-tight shorts which I modelled twice last weekend - on the ferry and over breakfast - and combine that with a long sleeved proper running top – twelve quid for the both of them from the bin end at Decathlon in Boulogne. A bargain! I’ve also selected a pair of trendy black 17 socks (eldest cash drainer says it's a 'D' for Donnay on the socks but I must have seconds because it's got '17' on mine) and - wait for it - Nike pumps! Yes – my pumps have cost me more than the rest of my kit put together (in fact, twixt you and I they were a hell of a price and I’m just praying they’ll last me till 2012). To say I look 'the business' is a tad of an understatement. I went down to the local market this afternoon to do some calf and groin stretches near the lingerie stall - and I certainly attracted some admiring glances I can tell you.

So - that's my kit sorted and, in January, once I've achieved my target time of 2 hours for my half marathon, I'll obviously be looking to apply for my official Olympic training kit from the 2012 elite training squad. I can't tell you how excited I am at the prospect of running in the red, white and blue of my country.
I'll also be popping out for a little jog on maybe two nights this coming week. No point in being too hasty about these things but I do want to have a bash at nipping round the Ashford 10K next Sunday in around 52 minutes.

But to do so is going to involve some sacrifices.

So I'm making some fairly radical changes to my training programme this week. On Monday I'm going to have a bash at this salad and cup-a-soup malarkey and see if that makes me run any quicker. I'm also cutting out the beer for three days to see if it makes a difference. (That's a double benefit actually, because I'm skint until next Thursday anyway until payday comes around.)

Before then - on Sunday this weekend I'll be nipping over to a place called Beckley (a '1,000 people with just three surnames' type of place) in East Sussex to have a neb at this 10K lark. I'll let you know what happens.

Keep on tapering.

Ron