Get your Fax right boys!!

RON - AN APOLOGY

I know that I'm considered a role model and I take my responsibilities very seriously. It has been brought to my attention that my last note to you contained a couple of swear words. I can only apologise to all those who were offended - particularly the youngsters who, I know, look at me as an exemplar par excellence.

So, I do promise that I'll try to refrain from using the words 'BERNARD' and 'MATTHEWS' ever again.

Yours truly and sincerely,

Ron

The race is on!

Off we went to Livingstone's Pit on Sunday morning for the Roding Valley Half Marathon at what was an unearthly hour to start a race. Now, you can say what you like about running in our capital city - and so too can I!

Running in London always has this kiddie's brain buzzing. And it's the same question that rattles round and round my head: "Why on earth would anybody with a brain larger than a pea want to live in such a God forsaken place?".

Let me set the scene.

It’s lashing down with rain - again. It's cold, wet and miserable. And I'm lined up with another few hundred optimists on what should be a flagship sporting arena. Only it isn't a flagship sporting arena. And it isn't for one reason and one reason only. Its council owned. So, amongst the weeds growing wild in what is basically a piece of scrubland in London, is the home of one of this country's finest athletic clubs. A club that has, over the years, produced hundreds of fine athletes, including Olympic champions. The club is run by a cracking band of volunteers who work absolute miracles to ensure the Rons of the future have somewhere to run, throw and jump - but the whiff of decay around the place saddened this kiddie I can tell you. And it shouldn’t have to be like that - as we international athletes know when we travel abroad. The facilities put together by Johnny Foreigner at even the smallest of hicksville towns put our capital city to shame.

But don't you give up you Roding Valley-ers. You keep annoying the Health & Safety Police by putting on events like this. It'll annoy the hell out of them but eventually they'll leave you - and us - in peace.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'Hey, Ron. Are you getting political in your prime?'.

Well maybe it's for Elite athletes like your man here to set an example. And it's made my mind up. When I've got my Gold Medal I'm going to set up a Foundation so that those who live in deprived areas like London, Wales and Dunstable can have the benefit of some of my expertise - and a couple of quid no doubt - and we will start to get this country up where it belongs.

In fact, I'll do more than that. I'll get my mate Tom at the Dept. of Media, Culture and Sport to start preparing the way. I'll drop him a line later.

But back to London.

Off we set - within 100 yards of leaving the stadium we were confronted by a Police sign appealing for witnesses to a robbery by 11 blokes. We then continued running, dodging the remains of last night's kebab and chips; dodging cars parked on pavements and impatient motorists. Oh - and at this point a young whippersnapper hurtled past me - in bare flippin' feet! See what I mean, they can't even afford to give the kids pumps to run in!

And the Fax?

Well your guess is as good as mine but these cockernees are a strange bunch and kept on and on about their flippin' fax machines! As in 'Cor blimee Gov, that rain Fax you up'; 'Strike a light Guv for Fax sake'.

Mind you I did see something that made me smile - there was a chap there from the British Airways Running Club and was he hacked off when the woman in the left luggage area tried to charge him £35 a bag!!

Anyway, I've rather meandered from the point somewhat. I did promise that the game was now well and truly on for London 2012 and that I was to step up another gear in training and preparation. So, my target for this race was to pip my best time at the event - a 1.59.21 a couple of years ago before I was an Olympic Elite Hopeful. Well it's a tough old course I can tell you with more hills than my immediate family. But let me tell you that your man here really brought home the bacon - a stunning 1.57.49. I think I probably finished about 4th or 5th but there weren't that many people hanging around to find out when I finished so I'd nobody to ask.

But that was a cracking result for your man here - and puts me in great heart for my first International of the year this weekend in Belgium-land. I'm aiming for something just south of 85 minutes in the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile race to put me in good stead for the Hastings Half Marathon in a couple of weeks. Before then though - a flippin' 18 mile training run this Thursday.

On the business front I've now finalised my list of preferred sponsors - or commercial partners - and I'll bring these along with me in a day or so. I've also got some news on a media partner. And talking of partners - I'm on the hunt for some warm weather training partners - and have I got some crackers up my sleeve!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Time to get the sponsors in - but first let's get them out!

Well, I've not had a bad week of training to get ready for my visit to Livingstone's Pit tomorrow morning. Tuesday saw me do a 16 mile training run - only slight problem was I didn't actually get very far. The chuffing weather we've been having around Ron Towers of late made it impossible to train outdoors - so I had to do 16 miles on the flipping treadmill - now is that dedication or what?

I've been working hard this week on getting my sponsorship proposal ready and I've already got a short-list of companies that I'll be offering myself to. The choice of company is obviously a fairly important decision for me to make. Not only will I be carrying the responsibility of their brands with me - but when I stand on that podium with the Gold Medal around my neck I want to make sure that those commercial enterprises who are associated with me will not tarnish the medal I've worked so hard to get.

So, first off, I have compiled a short list of those companies and organisations that I want nothing to do with. These companies will not have their logo or names within a hundred yards of this kiddie. Just to make sure that they don't see this as sour grapes come 2012, and to avoid any unpleasant or embarrassing scenes in the aftermath of my Gold Medal triumph, I'm writing to the Chief Executives of these organisations now to make sure they understand my reasons for banning them. My 'no-way-Jose' companies are:

Bernard Matthews - for obvious reasons. Poor media relations, low brand integrity and shit meat.
EDF Energy. They might sponsor everything else that moves - but not this kiddie. They're French. And you can stick on this list Moet & Chandon, Perrier and Burtons Cakes (they make those French Fondant Fancies) as well!
Transport for London - you watch these bunch of corduroy-shoe-wearing, no-car-driving, hermaphrodites jump on the bandwagon just as soon as they hear the Olympics are coming to their town. Well they make my life a nightmare every time I visit Livingstone's Pit - so this is, quite honestly, just pay back time.
Coca Cola - yes, sorry chaps. You might think you'll have the pick of the endorsements. But not this kiddie here. I've got a conscience and when I heard of the conditions that Coca-Cola workers have to work in their sweatshop labour houses in Chelmsford I was horrified. Did you know that some of their workers have to do twelve hour shifts for as little as £14 an hour? It's exploitation.
British Telecom - I'm going to get a tad political here (but, just because I'm famous doesn't mean I can't have opinions). How on earth have we come to a position where our own phone company employs staff in India - and kicks our own boys and girls over here out of a job? My mate Buttocks was made redundant after 25 years loyal service to BT - so this one's for you Buttocks!
Morrison’s Supermarkets. They're Yorkshire. Nuff said.
Smart Cars. They just look stupid and I'm not going on no victory parade in an open top Smart Car. I want a bus like the Ashes team had.
Campbell’s Meatballs. Surely an Oxymoron?
The Guardian Newspaper. (and you can take it from this that they will not be one of my preferred media partners either!) Any national newspaper that doesn't have a decent sports page is just not worth the paper it’s printed on. Add to the fact that half of the blessed paper is .. well ... it's just boring. Only a very small proportion of the population want to know what's going on in the French Sahara or want to hear the views of some Guatemalan Tribesmen's Leader. I want to know what's happening in Hastings and Bexhill and Luton.
JJB Sports. I just refuse to wear a Burberry vest and baseball cap when I'm running.

So, I'll be firing a letter of to what I call my Top Ten Ron List Of Shame - that'll show 'em.

Anyway - I must dash. The Half Share in the House has promised to help me prepare for tomorrow's efforts with a rub down and her famous clench and wrinkle treatment. I'll let you know how I get on tomorrow.

Keep on tapering.


Ron

Time to step up a gear - properly this time!

My trip to Caravan County to take part in a piddling 10K in Ashford on Sunday was eventful if nothing else. The race is a tidy affair and, as soon as it was known I'd be appearing, it was another sell out. And you know, it makes me feel really humble that I can be of assistance to the ordinary running community. You see, its OK us elite runners turning up to the Olympics and to the London Marathons of this world - but we wouldn't ever have reached such dizzy heights if it hadn't been for the existence of these small club events. So come on Paula – how about the Bewl 15 or the Hastings half then? Let us both be beacons of light in the murky world of paid athletes eh?

Because that's why you'll always find this kiddie trying, week by week, in my own little way, to put a little back into the sport which has given me so much. (Mind you it hasn't given me any really tangible rewards yet but that's something I'm going to address very shortly).

Mind you the organisers had a great way of ensuring that all the runners went through a proper warm down and stretching routine at the end. They made sure that all the cars in the car park sank up to their hub caps in mud – and we had to spend 45 minutes pushing the buggers out!

Anyway, so it was that I lined up for the piddling 10K and, after signing a few autographs and going through my start routine of groin thrusts and anal crunches I was away - like a racing snake I was. I had a target time of 54 minutes but I was really trying to get as far south towards 52 minutes as I could. That required me to run at just over 5 minute kilometre pace. Things were going OK and at the 7K mark I was on 36 minutes, so continuing that pace would see me cross the line in a little under 52 minutes – job done. To be honest I wasn't that confident because I'd been out on the rehydration for each of the previous five nights - so I was beginning to feel the pinch a tad. But I was still confident of exceeding my target.

To pause for a moment though. It just shows you how much I've regressed over the last couple of years - my target time was a full five minutes slower than my best time for this event and I was just thinking about this when I approached the hill at just past 7K. And I suddenly got a chuffing stitch. I've never had a stitch whilst running before - so to get one here was a tad annoying to say the least. As a result I had to walk for a couple of minutes and although I picked it up again towards the top of the hill by then I'd dropped behind my pace. I did put a bit of a spurt on for the last kilometre and eventually crossed the line in 53.02.

Now whilst that was ahead of my target time I know that I could have done so much better so I was a bit miffed. That flipping stitch must have cost me a trophy as well because whilst I'm not sure exactly where I was in the field, there were not too many ahead of me - I reckon I was 2nd or 3rd but eventually finished 285th.

So that has got me thinking now. And I've decided that the next couple of weeks are going to have to see a step-up in class from your man here. First of all, I've thrown away the bottle opener - and thrown away it will stay until at least Sunday night. That will give me plenty of time to prepare properly for my visit to Livingstone's Pit this Sunday for the Roding Valley Half. My target isn't a namby, pamby 2 hours plus jobbie either. I'm going for an event pb. The only time I've run the race before I ran it in 1.59.21 - so I'm going to beat myself up if I don't tip that time. There – that’s sticking my neck out!

I follow that with my first overseas event of the year with a visit to Bruges (yes, I know, the home of my lovely juice!) for the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race - target? Under 85 minutes. Finally I then take up the challenge of the Hastings Half marathon when I'll be pushing as hard as I can to get as close to 1 hour 55 minutes as I can.

In the meantime I'm focusing on getting miles under my belt - and as I sit here today in Ron Towers I'm contemplating my 16 mile training run which I need to do today.

I've also got some work to do on securing sponsorship and selecting my media partner - and I hope to bring you news on this later in the week.

Until then ...

Keep on tapering.


Ron

Brussels Pouts

Thought I'd tell you about my rather eventful visit to Brussels in midweek.

I was over there for a spot of R & R and found the chance to pass up a couple of glasses in the home of Leffe just too much to resist.

We arrived by Eurostar and as the weather was rather Northern, I found myself in a bar full of Germans. Irritatingly they thought I was some Welsh bloke because they kept shouting 'Morgan' at me, but this apart the place was quite pleasant. As I sat there quaffing the Lovely Juice my eyes were drawn to a rather smart Ferrari that pulled up outside the front door - and out pops this long-legged blonde stunner. When she entered the bar the Germans were silenced and they started the old Euro-drool - but I was shocked when this pretty thing proceeded to order a coffee - in perfect English!

She was one of ours.

I thought I'd impress her with some of my Ron one fingered press-ups and the tactic produced results when she asked if I'd care to join her! I have to say she was a pretty filly and I’m afraid I became captivated with her as she told me her story.

Turns out the girl was a smuggler! A real life smuggler - and she was so brazen about it. Apparently her trick was to smuggle precious stones from the diamond capital of Europe - Antwerp - into the UK where she then had some scam to shift the things to a couple of dodgy jewellers.

"But surely you draw attention to yourself with the fast car and the designer gear" I said. "No" she said "Because I hide the diamonds in a place where the Customs people don't look".

I was getting more and more intrigued and my curiosity turned to incredulity as she explained her modus operandi. She told me that she smuggled the diamonds by encrusting them on to yo-yo's - and to demonstrate, out of her handbag, she produced this child's yo-yo and, sure enough, it was studded with thousands of pounds worth of diamonds and other precious stones!

"But I still don't get it" I said "How do you manage to get the things past the Customs people?". "Easy" she says "Us girls have a little pocket that you boys don't have – and that’s where I hide the yo-yo"

I was stunned "What you put it .... up there?" I stammered, pointing towards her naught bits.

"Yup" she says "And I leave the bit of string showing - and then when I get home, I slip out of my undies and, with one tug of the string the diamonds are mine"

"Aaah - but what if they did a body search?" I countered.

"Listen, sweetie, I've been body-searched a dozen times" she said coolly and, with a long, sleeky pull on her cigarette, turned to me and whispered "But I still haven't come across a Customs Numptie brave enough to pull that string"

You do see life don't you?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

You have to go backwards to know what forwards feels like!

Well what an eventful week for this kiddie!

I started the week feeling a tad tender after my efforts in Dover last Sunday so I popped down to the local gym on Tuesday for a session of anal crunches and groin thrusts. The young fillies have some sort of shouting class on Tuesday evening and I often position myself close to their class to have a butchers. And I'm sure they appreciate me going through my extensive routine so close to them so they can watch me and, perhaps learn something. And, let's face it, some of them might be better off following the old Ron routine rather than wasting their time doing their silly dance things. They spend 45 minutes getting ready - designer kex, shoes, t-shirt and headband, tight little shorts – and then, of course, they have to tie their coat round their waist and then prance around for half an hour to old Bee Gees songs before sitting down for a thousand calories worth of Weight Watchers Puddings and Cakes. And the day one of them breaks sweat is the day I'll put the old leotard on myself too!

Anyway, the week has gone very much south for me since Tuesday. I've spent an agreeable - and eventful - couple of days in Brussels and I'd decided that after my gruelling training and dietary effort of the first few weeks of the year, this old kiddie deserved a break. So, I spent two days eating and drinking - and, well I carried on where I left off as soon as the old Eurostar hit Britain. So, my training for tomorrow's piddling 10K in Ashford has, to be honest, been non-existent. So my strategy is to treat tomorrow as a bit of an 'ease back into it' event. I should be able to complete the course in under 54 minutes - but twixt you and I this kiddie will be hammering away trying to get as close to 52 minutes as I can. But who knows? Maybe the excesses of the week will take their toll?

Then, after a decent spot of re-hydration with some members of my fan club in the afternoon and a decent kip in front of the footie I'll be ready to face the regime once again next week. I've a hard week of good behaviour - and on Tuesday I'm due to complete a 16 mile run as part of my marathon training. Then, on Sunday it's off to Livingstone's Pit and a stab at the Roding Valley Half Marathon in North London.

But whilst my week has been less than brilliant training-wise, I've had some news off the track. First of all my chum Seb Coe has endorsed my quest for Olympic Gold - and I'll stick a copy of his letter (personally signed, mind you) here for you to see. But whilst it's great that his Seb-ship has taken the trouble to personally acknowledge my journey to bring home the Olympic bacon, there is a sting in the tail of his letter.

He's not accepted my entry!

But this potentially devastating state of affairs ain't going to put this kiddie off! But you know I would have thought it would be in their interests to accept entries now - can you imagine the chaos there's going to be in 2012 if they're planning on accepting entries on the day? And surely the Olympic movement can't be that hard up it needs the extra £2 for on the day entries? Anyway, I'm grateful to him for at least endorsing my Olympic struggle.

I've also had a response from the Sports Minister regarding my offer to become an Olympic Ambassador for the country. Unfortunately it’s not from the man himself but from one of his numpties. However he does sign off by saying he looks forward to seeing me standing proudly on the podium! At last he knows where I’m headed.

So that's another supporter in high places in the bag and you can see his letter here shortly.

Still no response from my media adviser Max Clifford or from Sue Barker regarding my offer to take over from Ali McBeal on Question of Sport - but there’s time yet. I'm currently in the process of putting my sponsorship proposal together and drawing up a shortlist of potential Official Ron Partners - and I'm also studying the form book to check out a couple of potential media partner - but more news on this soon.

For now it's relax, put my feet up and an early start for Caravan County in the morning. I'll let you know how I get on.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Rain. Sleet. Wind. Hail. And Hills. Marvelous

You know, when I grow up I'm going to be a weather forecaster.

Those of you who checked my notes last week will know that I confidently predicted that the weather on Sunday in the south east of England would be cold, miserable and wet.

Well, I was right.

A bit.

It was more than that. It was chuffing cold, chuffing miserable and chuffing wet I’ll tell you!

Each time I've ventured into Caravan County and wandered down to Dover for their half marathon, I've ended up soaked and frozen to the bone. And it was no different on Sunday. A light drizzle and cold wind just before the start gave way to torrential rain, hailstone and sleet - and then we had a gale blowing in from the channel. Which is all very well - but then I had to run up hills as well.

But this kiddie is nothing if not resilient and I fought my way through the field to finish underneath my target time of 2.05 - but agonisingly short of another sub 2 hour jobbie. Which would have been a marvellous performance on this course in these conditions. In fact I managed 2 hours and 48 seconds which, considering it took me almost 30 seconds to cross the start line was a performance that will have had the Ethiopians and Kenyans dobbing themselves. And do you know, just to make it worse - not one of them showed up to test themselves against me or the elements. And that just proves my point that some of these elite athletes have grown just a tad too big for their spikes.

Sure, we can all do these luxury, big ticket events - your New Yorks, Paris and London events. But it's in the dark waters of southern England where men are men and boys are left behind the bushes. And that's why this kiddie here will always be there at these marvellous events. Not only is it great for the soul - its good too to let your public see you.

To be fair there weren't many of my public out watching Sunday's race - and even if there had been I wasn't getting out of the Allegro until I absolutely had to. Nope, Sunday was one of those days when the warm-up was an extra notch on the car heater.

But after Dover, I do feel that I'm getting my stamina and strength together OK. The old war wound of an injury is being nursed by my medical team and, apart from a couple of twinges here and there it seems to be standing up to scrutiny.

Having told you about my magnificent pre-race diet of beans I must admit to trying something else last weekend. A Dupiazza on Friday evening, accompanied by a couple of Leffes, was followed by a Saturday evening supper of Steak and Kidney Pudding. But don't go thinking for a minute that my standards are slipping - it was just a bit of an awkward weekend for sticking to the rabbit food - and you can rest assured that the old regime will be followed closely this week.

Well apart from a couple of days when I pop off to Brussels.

Anyway, training-wise, I've a light session tomorrow followed by a gigantic leap of faith - I've got to get a 16 mile run under my belt and that will probably have to be on Friday. Can't wait!

And then this weekend I'm back to Caravan County for a bash at one of those piddling 10Ks in Ashford.

So, I’ll be back later in the week to let you know how I get on – and I’ll let you have a butchers at the correspondence with Max Clifford and Sue Barker at Question of Sport.

Till then, enjoy the weather.

Keep on tapering.


Ron

Another week gone, another milestone reached

As we reach the end of our sixth week in 2007 it is quite frightening what us athletes have to put our bodies through. Normal people and women have no idea what a gruelling life we lead. My punishing schedule of fitness training, diet, early nights and some pretty intense psychological sessions would leave their mark on a mere mortal - never mind this elite athlete's body.

Until now I've made it to the ranks of Superstar athlete and media personality by using my own unique training methods - but the progress I've made since Jan 1, using some rather unconventional methods it has to be said, is quite startling. Which just goes to show that you must always be open to ideas from others.

You know I think I've just been too comfortable with my pie and Leffe diet. But since trying this new fangled low-fat, low carb, low protein, low taste, no alcohol, no sweeties just plenty of exercise programme ... guess what? I've lost almost 16 pounds.

That's a pair of twins!

So, now that I'm not running with a wheelbarrow of blobness around my middle I've suddenly discovered a frightening burst of speed which, I tell you what - it must have those old Frenchies and Ethiopians dobbing in their EU subsidies!

But am I complacent?

Not on your Nellie! This kiddie's nothing if not dedicated to the cause. And that cause, need I remind you, is a commitment not just to beat those Frenchies - but to rub their gallic noses in it! So, I'm continuing with the training and diet thing through the rest of this month and next at least. I've decided I've got to fill that wheelbarrow up with a few more pounds of blob - and I've a target of sending another pound a week south right up to my first marathon of the year - that's London on April 22nd. At the moment, I'm something stone 12 lbs - so I'll be something stone 9lbs before the end of Feb; something stone 5lbs by the end of March - and something stone 2lbs come Marathon time. At that point I'll have dropped almost 2 stone - and if that ain't dedication to the cause I don't know what is.

I've a return to Caravan County this weekend when me and the Sod, my youngest, brave the elements for a stab at the Dover Half Marathon - the Sod's taking part in the youngster's run. His training regime of Playstation, Tomb Raider, Tizer, Penny Sweets and crisps should see him through that one! And if you're out and about on Sunday, I can confidently predict the weather. It will be cold and wet and chuffing miserable. How do I know? Simple. It is always cold, wet and miserable for this race. Target-wise I'm still bathing in the euphoria of last weekend's sub 2 hour half. Logic tells me that I should be able to repeat that effort on Sunday - but Dover's not a flat course by any means and I think, twixt you and I, I'll struggle to do so. So, I'm playing safe and aiming for a 2-05 jobbie but if I get sub 2 hour I'll kiss the mother-in-law.

As for the rest of the month, its back to Kent next week for a piddling 10K in Ashford and then the week after I'll be visiting Livingstone's Pit for a return to the Roding Valley Half Marathon.

Away from my punishing Elite Atlete's Training Schedule (EATS) I've a big problem ahead next week - I visit my spiritual home of Belgium on Tuesday and Wednesday for a two day visit to Brussels - and I've a feeling the training might just head south for a couple of days. Certainly this kiddie ain't taking the Belgian Strasse without checking up on me old mucker Leffe - and, of course, travelling Elite Athlete's Class on the Eurostar means a freebie decent full English breakfast!!

I am expecting some progress on improving my media profile next week and you'll not be surprised to know that I'm recruiting the best possible team around me to help mould your man here into a smoothie media personality. I've just fired off a letter to Max Clifford confirming his appointment as my media adviser - I'll stick a copy of my appointment letter here shortly. And, between you and I, I've some exciting news about my TV profile. I think I'm a midge's away from being appointed a captain on Question of Sport now that that Scottish drunk has left to concentrate on losing football matches with his national team. Obviously it's not confirmed yet - but when you see the application I've fired off to Sue Barker you'll be as impressed as I think she'll be.

Well, that's it for now - take it easy with chickens, turkeys and budgies till that Bernard Matthews thing blows over.

Keep on tapering.



Ron

I just couldn't resist

Further to my last note about the power of beans and their benefit to us athletes.

I've just been sent proof that Triathletes have also discovered their powers.

Keep on tapering.


Ron

Beanz Meanz Timez

So, you want to know the secret of top-notch athletic performance?

Well, I’ve discovered it.

Beans.

Not just any old beans mind you – to be specific, Branston Baked Beans. Let me explain.

As the fog hung like a discarded duffle coat over Sussex early on Sunday morning, your man here swung his legs out of the pit. Between you and I it was a heck of a wrench to continue that process and actually get myself out of the bed. It was bleak, gloomy, cold, miserable – and, of course, it was Sunday. Ahead of me was a 120 mile journey to Essex for my first half marathon of 2007. The alternative was a lie-in, breakfast in front of Match of the Day and a morning with the Sunday newspapers.

No contest.

Because, to achieve sporting excellence you just have to accept that pain and sacrifice are part and parcel of life’s daily curriculum. So I jumped into the Allegro and set off for Great Bentley.

Of course an essential part of any athlete’s training regime is diet and you’ll know from our previous conversations that I place a significant emphasis on ensuring I have the right food and fuel inside me. You’ll also notice, however, that as my date with destiny and the 2012 Olympic Games draws ever closer, my diet has had to evolve accordingly.

Incidentally, whilst the Ginsters and Leffes may have disappeared – my yearning for them remains and it is truly a great sacrifice sometimes to ignore their temptations. (Actually the Ginsters fetish is only symbolic as any pastry connoisseur knows that there’s only pie manufacturer worth its place on the Lard Podium – and that, of course, is Holland’s.)

But the question of choosing the right pre-race fuel has been worrying me for a few weeks now. Obviously, I’m quite partial to a full English – particularly if I’ve had a couple of Leffes and a kebab the night before. But with my new found conversion to proper race preparation I’ve started experimenting with some weird concoctions.

I’ve tried Special K, Muesli and Shredded Wheat but all three to me have the consistency – and taste - of rotting vegetation. I’ve tried poached egg but I’ve always considered the poached egg as the hermaphrodite of the breakfast menu – its not really good, wholesome and filling in the way that a bacon sandwich is. And whenever I’ve eaten one I’ve just been left with an urge to eat a fried egg!

I also went through a fruit phase with a bowl of apple, banana, orange and grapes as an early morning appetiser. The problem there was that within seconds of emptying the bowl clean of fruit I knew I was seconds away from … well, filling the other bowl.

But I’ve had a kind of religious moment. And it all started on Sunday morning when, with just minutes to go before we needed to scrape the ice off the Allegro, we were still scratching around for some brekky. Things haven’t been too good on the old finance front of late and all we had in the cupboard was a tin of Branston Baked Beans and a couple of slices of bread.

And that was the start of a remarkable discovery.

Two slices of toast and a decent dollop of BBB’s later and we’re off to Great Bentley. Now, admittedly there is a downside of this particular pre-race meal especially when in a confined space with my other half. The Half Share in the House does have something of a reputation, with just one glance at a Brussels Sprout all that is required to bring on a rush of wind to rival the Sirocco.

So, arriving in Great Bentley must have been a sight for sore eyes – having had to keep the old car windows down meant the pair of us arrived looking as blue as a couple of Smurfs and it didn’t half take some warming up to get the old circulation going. A huge crowd of people had turned out for this first-time half marathon – and I reckon my appearance had added a good few hundred to the entry list too. A goodly crowd of pretty things in Great Bentley too – and I was faced with a queue of them who seemed keen to have their frontages signed by your man here. So, naturally I spent a happy few minutes obliging.

And then it was time to go. You’ll recall that my target time was a tad under 2 hours 5 minutes. Well those beans did the trick I can tell you. Because I only went and zipped round in a full ten minutes under my target time!

That’s right I finally achieved that important sub 2 hour half marathon that had eluded me for so long last year. Yup, I dashed over the tape, complete with my ceremonial Ron-dip for the line, in 1 hour 55.18.

And for that I have to thank those Branston Baked Beans!

So I’m going to use Sunday’s performance as a springboard for the future. I now need to build on that performance and consolidate this sub-2 hour benchmark before mounting an attack on the important next mark – a sub 1 hour 50 minutes half marathon. That should propel me into the world rankings and from there it should be downhill all the way. By this time next year I hope to be approaching the times set me by my Elite Athlete coaching staff.

I’m also now so convinced about the power of my Branston Baked Beans that I feel duty bound to write to the bloke who makes them and offer my services as an ambassador for his product. Now, can you see how I’m developing my select group of product partners?

So, I’ve a few letters to fire off this week as I sort both my media and product partners – plus, of course sorting out my training partners. In the meantime I’m knuckling down for a return to Caravan County this Sunday with a bash at the Dover Half Marathon. Its not an easy course though so a sub 2 hour performance here could be just that little bit too much – so I’ll play safe and aim for a 2-05 again.

But I’ll be back to you before the end of the week with an update of my progress.

Keep on tapering.


Ron

Time to step up a gear (1)

One of the downsides of being a top athlete is the threat of injury or accident. Set yourself a goal of athletic glory and there’s bound to be something – or somebody - waiting just down the Strasse ready to give you a bite on the bum. Indeed the curse of injury is something that has stalked this particular kiddie for some time now and I’ve suffered my fair share of missed opportunities, pain and suffering as I strive for Olympic perfection.

Fortunately I’ve been relatively lucky since beginning to tell you my story last autumn – but I have the feeling that my good fortune could be about to take a turn for the worse.

A worrying niggle on my left shin is starting to concern my medical back-up team (well, my mate Buttocks) and there is a chance that your man here might have to take a little break from competition to give the injury time to heal.

Not!

This kiddie ain’t nothing if not brave, fearless and ready to address whatever challenges fate chucks his way. You see, I know that pain and suffering are just two of the currencies I’m going to find jingling in my Olympic wallet – and I know a little pain now will bring that big Gold Medal gain in 2012.

So, all bets are still on and I’m busy with the mental preparations required for my next tough challenge – my first half marathon of 2007, tomorrow, in Essex. The biggest challenge is, of course, Essex itself. Not only is it a heck of a long way – but its chuffing close to that Bernard Matthews Turkey Bird Flu farm that’s been on the news today! News has just been confirmed that the turkeys have contracted the H5N1 virus. Which is not only a scary virus but also the first illness to be named after a National Insurance number.

Anyway, I’m sure that the people of Great Bentley will turn out in force tomorrow to see me mount an attack on my latest target. I enjoyed a light session down the gym last night and at my weigh-in I’ve seen a further reduction in my blobness – and I’m now almost half way to my target of shedding 28lbs before my first full marathon of the year in London, in April. I’m looking to shove a further 6 pounds south before the end of February and I’ll keep you up to date with my efforts to disappear pound by pound. I also opened the old lungs this morning with a nippy six mile training run – which left the Half Share gasping in my considerable wake and which was needed if for no other reason than to equalise the half pound of choccie I couldn’t resist last night! (That said, I have managed to keep off the old loopy juice with just a couple of glasses to help celebrate the Half Share’s birthday on Wednesday night.)

Time-wise, tomorrow, I’ve set myself a target of a tad over 2 hours and I’ll be chuffed if I’m anywhere under 2 hours 5 mins. That psychologically important sub-2 hour mark will probably remain part of my race preparations for later in the month – and I’ve provisionally chalked in the Dover Half Marathon in a couple of weeks time for an attack on the time – assuming I’m not crocked!

Now, I’ve already said that its time to step up a gear – but I’m not just talking about my performances on the road. The more I think about it, the more I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to step up a gear organisationally.

I’ve had great encouragement from my mate Dave (the head honcho at UK Athletics) – you can see his letter to me here http://www.nice-work.org.uk/blog/UK%20athletics.jpg.

Now, listening to his advice, I’ve decided to expand my team of advisers and I’ll be working hard to put in place the necessary building blocks that I reckon are needed to give me the best possible chance of Olympic glory.
And I’m starting with my media presence.

Basically, I think I need to work harder at my media persona so I’m putting together a team of people to help me achieve a much higher – and much more professional – profile. I’m not messing about either – so, I’ve decided to appoint that Max Clifford bloke to advise me. I’m also considering having a couple of media partners too – I know it might mean having to make room for a couple more stickers on my vest – but hey, ho have you seen Paula Radcliffe’s kit bag? I’m a little unsure of where to go in this respect but I thought I’d start with our own running bible Runners World and I’m also looking at one or two national newspapers to see if I can’t take a few bob of ‘em . This media lark though is all about opportunity – and I'll tell you something cocker - I’m one of the sharpest knives in the box when it comes to opportunity I can tell you. So, I’m also firing off a letter to take over from that Scottish bloke Ali McBeal on Question of Sport. Which as well as bringing me some much needed exposure will also relieve the British public from his incoherent drunken ramblings. Amazing display of judgement from the bloke though – he’s leaving to take a job working for the Scottish National football team – so at least his experience of losing will come in handy!

So, I’ll let you know how I get on with my media work – and once that is all sorted I’ll be turning my attention back to the world of sport as I try for my ultimate objective of the year – to try and secure myself some training partners as I focus on my 2012 training plans. I’ll be looking at some of the arrangements that the second greatest hope for Olympic marathon glory in 2012 has in place and try to persuade Miss Radcliffe’s management that I’m probably a better bet for them. At least I don’t run the risk of screwing up nine months of earnings for them every time I get ga-ga after a few Leffes!

Anyhow - that’s for later – in the meantime, I’ll let you know how Essex goes tomorrow.

You watch out for sneezing birdies now.

Keep on tapering.


Ron