Never run with children or animals

The Olympic roadshow just keeps on rolling.

Your man here is having to really knuckle down though to try and lose a bit of pie and Leffe from the midriff and, not to put too fine a point on it, until I do, there ain't gonna be any World Records come 2012. I'm not saying I won’t win the Gold Medal - that's a foregone conclusion - but my time might be a tad slower than I would wish.

Unless, of course, I can slim down a tad. I'm currently on a Monday to Friday, lettuce, cup-a-soup and snack-a-jack diet - with the odd belt loosening blow-out allowed as a treat on a weekend. It seems to be doing the trick too - but time will tell.

On Friday I popped up to Stiletto City to take part in a very agreeable event organised by Springfield Striders. It's a 5 mile race around the country lanes of a village just outside Chelmsford. If you've never been to Chelmsford it's very much commuters-ville with all those who've passed their insurance exams congregating on one big estate. They’re a strange bunch - the kind of people who get a thrill out of buying electrical gadgets, personal number plates and sitting on trains for hours at a time.

But the chaps out running on the Friday were a different breed - very approachable, pleasant, and appreciative of our turning up. In fact they didn't behave like Essex people at all! Obviously, my appearance had attracted a bit of a crowd but I'm not sure they were ready for me. For some reason my display of anal crunches, pelvic squelches and groin thrusts didn't go down too well with the spectators - a few of whom just turned their backs on me and ushered their kids away.

Their loss I thought.

Anyway, the race started and finished in a pub - so after I'd thrashed my way round the course in 44 sizzling minutes I settled down for a couple of beers, a free burger and offered to sign autographs for the assembled masses - a very pleasant evening.

But Sunday was not pleasant.

The Half Share in the House decided she wanted to take part in the North Downs Run - a gruelling 30K race in, along and around the North Downs Way. I'm just coming back from my post London injury scare so I've not really got 30K in my legs yet. In any event to be honest I couldn't be arsed. Instead I decided to accompany my youngest - The Sod - in the Fun Run, a gentle 2.5K jog.

Never again.

For a start off it was full of bally kids. Not the kind of kid who appreciates and respects the event. But the kind of kid to whom manners and respect are just two words that they might have to spell in a Citizenship class.

So, here's what happened. It turns out that there are 40 kids and two adults - me and a woman who looked like a Jehovah’s Witness and wearing, wait for it - OPEN-TOED SANDALS!! She'd turned up to run in open-chuffing-toed sandals. For goodness sake, I'm an Olympic bloody athlete and I'm lining up next to somebody dressed to go shopping!

The gun went off. That’s normally a signal for people to run in one direction - towards the finish line. Not this lot. The gun goes bang - and they scattered in all directions. Some heading for the correct course, others walking from side to side, and some inexplicably running back towards the start line to collect sweets and drinks off their parents. It was bloody chaotic.

Three young oiks decided it would be great fun to run in front of me. And then just stop. I shimmied past them - but they caught me up and stopped in front of me again. Great fun for them. For the first four times anyway but not quite so funny after I had I delivered a size 9 Timpson up the jacksy of the eldest one - caught him a cracker I did. He retired from the race complaining to his single parent that "That fat bloke just booted me up the bum". "Sorry - tripped" I yelled apologetically as I ran past them.

Of course after 400 metres the vast majority of the kids had stopped, most clutching their sides, crying or complaining about having a stitch. The Sod, meanwhile, who is supposed to be running with his father has become a dot in the distance and is running with that 'eat my dust' style so common amongst little Herbert’s of that age. So I decided just to take it easy. But then, 500 metres from the finish, the bloody woman in Jesus boots only went and overtook me! She was flying. The straps on her open toed sandals were flapping away in the breeze - but she went past me at some rate of knots. I wasn't having that, of course - but it took all my strength to catch the bloody woman. Eventually doing so just 50 metres from the finish – and let me tell you the temptation to turn round and give her the Ron finger was almost unbearable.

I suppose what really hurt though was running in this race for oiks and nobody having a clue who I was. Olympic hopeful? Gold medal cert? I might just as well have been George Bush for all the notice they took of me. But what really, really, really grated was entering the finishing funnel to be told by a helpful marshal - "just a few more yards to go - come on, you can do it".

Err, excuse me. I can do it? Of course I can chuffing do it - it's only 6 weeks since I finished the London Bloody Marathon - so I know I can run 2.5K!!!

I suppose you can sense my feelings of annoyance and frustration - I don't normally use expletives. But I was so pigged off by the experience I promptly went home and got absolutely lashed at my mate Ernie's Birthday Bash.

That’ll learn 'em I thought!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

That flippin' logo thing!

There's been an awful lot of fuss about the new London 2012 Olympics (I love the sound of those words when I'm in earshot of a Frenchman, don't you?) logo that my mate Seb drew.



Now Seb is a mate of mine so I'm reluctant to enter the fray and fuel the controversy. But let me just make one point. If you're going to draw a logo - then at least have the decency to talk to those blokes who are going to have to wear the chuffing thing - ie Me!!

Suffice to say that this kiddie will not be running the 2012 London Olympic Marathon with my chest emblazoned with something that was copied from the side of a tube train in Harrow!

Fortunately, my mate Buttocks has come to the rescue and he's designed a proper logo - and this one didn't cost £400,000 I can tell you.



So no prizes for guessing which one I'll be wearing come 2012 eh?

Keep on tapering.


Ron

Bit of catch up news

You know - I've got so much to tell you about your man here's exploits over the last month.

But first I have to confide in you, I've just had a shock. The numpties who run our country have determined that we must now recycle everything we use - and one consequence of this is a whole load of different dustbins for our rubbish. Presumably because of who I am - an Olympic athlete-in-waiting - I've been given my very own bins. One of them I presume is for pie wrappers and one is for my Leffe empties. Well, strewth - I've now filled the damned things up with old wrappers and empties that had collected in the car, by my bed etc. And there's still a week and a half before the bin men come to collect them. Fortunately I've been on the straight and narrow for a couple of weeks now so the only contemporary rubbish I've collected is a few old lettuce leaves, some empty cup-a-soup wrappers and screwed-up Snack-a-Jack bags - so whilst the future may look rosie (or green), I was concerned - how would I get rid of my old rubbish?

Then I had an idea.

I'll go to Essex.

So tomorrow night I'm spreading my wings and popping up to Stiletto City - to take part in a small 5 miler in Chelmsford.

And whilst I'm there I'll litter the A12 with my rubbish.



Now I know that this is environmentally unsound, not to mention very un-neighbourly. But in my defence can I just mention .... Brentwood? Have you been there? Let's just agree that a few pounds of rubbish might actually make that place a bit more interesting shall we?

So, my immediate public appearances have been settled – and then on Sunday I'm off to Caravan County to watch the Half Share in the House take part in the 30K North Downs run. You have to be a nutter to do that one - so I'll let her do it. It'll give me an opportunity to mingle with my supporters and sign a few autographs - and to be there in my civvies will make a nice change because sometimes, I have to say, I do get a tad weary of people ogling my lycra.

I'm also busy trying to secure some new lucrative sponsorship deals - and I'll have some news for you soon on this front.

Now then, I thought I'd also bring you up to speed with a boozy little weekend spent in France in the middle of last month. I'd been invited along to take part in the Montreuil Ramparts 10K by those nice people at Nice Work who organise running trips to Europe - I think I'm kind of like a talisman for them. Certainly I'm the nearest they’ll ever get to a celebrity - so I always enjoy my weekends away with them.



I have to admit I was a little shocked though when I first clapped eyes on the motley crew I was due to spend a weekend with - if I hadn't been invited specially I think it would have been one of those weekends where I "had the flu" and "will have to stay in my room" all weekend. Not to put too fine a point on it - they were a gin-fuelled lot. From the first beer at breakfast on the boat, to the final squeeze of the barmaid's apron on the boat back - they didn't stop throwing booze down their necks.



That said, they were a nice bunch and it was good to see that I inspired a couple of them to run their first ever race. I also appreciated the relaxed way they treated me. Most of the time they gave me a pretty wide berth and let me get on with my media and promotional duties. And they weren't forever asking me for training tips or whether I'd got a celebrity girlfriend. In fact, because they treated me just like a normal person, then that’s the way I acted. Most of the time. I have to admit, a few Leffes were dropped over the 48 hours we were there - but, hey, life is for living eh?



I was sorry to miss the running bit of the weekend though - this kiddie here never shies away from rubbing the old frog's noses in the doo-doo. Fortunately we did come away with a few pots - the Half Share in the House won a prize for being a nippy old woman and - and this really smacked me in the gob - my youngest, the Sod, who'd stowed away on the bus - only went and won the nippers race. Winning it knocked me for six - mind you, he's just a chip off the old block. What really made my weekend was seeing the kid's face when he went to collect the trophy and had to give the old Frenchie a couple of smackeroons on the cheek! (see below for the proof!)



I was a tad miffed not to have been able to run in the race - but I did content myself with a Leffe or two. I also had my last 'Big Breakfast' of the Spring for the foreseeable. I'd already made my mind up it was to be my last blow out - so I did rather go over the strasse on the egg and bacon front. But what the heck!



Anyway, I'll let you know about my little jaunt down to Luxembourg in a day or two - in the meantime, wish me luck as I take the first tentative steps back to world-class elite athleticism.

Starting tomorrow in Chelmsford- so may see you there? After a rather sluggish 6 miler this evening, I’m looking forward to it!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Don't worry - I'm here!

Don’t worry Ronettes – I’m OK!!

Well only just – but I am OK.

Where have I been? What have I been doing? And who with?

All these questions and much, much more will be answered in good time. But I just wanted to tell you that I’m really .... just fine-ish!

Have you missed me?

I’ve got so much to tell you that it’ll take me a few days – I’ve been representing my country in foreign places like France and Luxembourg, my favourite small European country; I’ve been competing in Caravan County, I’ve been meeting with dignitaries – but I’ve been also been eating a couple of pies and downing the odd Leffe too.

So where do I start? Well I suppose I should tell you why I’ve been absent.

I know that there were rumours floating around – I’d been kidnapped by dissident Canadians fighting for independence from England, I’d been taken in and offered full board and lodgings by HM Inspector of Secure Premises; I’d been on warm weather training in Scotland etc etc - all very romantic – but some way from the truth.

The truth is I’m afraid much worse than any of those scenarios.

I've had to get a job.

You see, since my magnificent victory over Haille Gebrselassie at the London Marathon this year I really expected the commercial endorsements to come flooding in – but, you know, life’s just not like that. And to be honest I’ve found it difficult to carry on with my full-time Olympic training programme. It was a huge psychological blow – not to mention a pain in the backside – to find myself struggling to pay my own training and dietary expenses (do you know how much food is? Over £3 a pint now!). So, I found myself under a bit of pressure from the Half Share in the House to pop out and get some spondoolicks. Apart from anything else it takes some ackers to support her five times-a-week bingo habit and with further demands on my wallet from Septic Knuckles, the rent man, Haille-Minogue, The Droog and the Sod – my three cash drainers – I had no option.

Fortunately my mates Ernie and Buttocks came to the rescue and got me a job as towel hanger at the local sauna and solarium – that went south after just three days after some pathetic incident with a couple of fillies, an ice cube and a whoopee cushion got blown up out of all proportion. Anyway I ended up working as a car park attendant on the seafront in Hastings – and I tell you it’s been a real uplift for me. My confidence has improved, my social skills have taken a turn for the better, I’m now better able to negotiate, to interact, to debate. And I’m also able to reverse a Ford Transit into a space four and a half feet wide.

So that’s why I’ve been quiet. Your man here has been into shift work and seven days a week working – and all for the benefit of my dear family.

Anyway, that’s enough brownie points in the bag – it’s back to normal now!

But "Hey, Ron" I hear you say “Tell us about your intensive Olympic Training Programme and are you still on course for 2012 glory?”. Well I have to say, there have been times when I’ve wondered myself. But don’t worry – that medal has still got my name on it!

Immediately following London, I became quite ill – my body basically fell to bits. In fact on more than occasion I was forced to my bed and had to rely on the Half Share’s caring nature to see me through the day. My skin started to drop off, my head hurt, my insides were in turmoil – basically I was one big unwell bunny. But not wishing to disappoint my public and those who have followed me through thick and thin – even when I went to Wales – I decided to try and carry on making my hugely popular public appearances.

My biggest mistake was running a 10 mile race in Caravan County. I popped over to Hildenborough at the beginning of last month. I felt OK-ish and finished the 10 miler in 1.32.34. But, my word did I suffer for that. My legs had gone the morning after - and I thought I'd got the dreaded splints. Three days later I went down to my local athletics track to sign a few autographs and attempted to do a lap of honour and to wave to the assembled masses - but, you know, I couldn't manage more than 15 yards before I had to stop.

So, with my anger and frustration all boiling up I threw my pumps under the stairs, took a pie, popped a Leffe and sat there and stewed. I missed my favourite race in France and my even more favouritist race in Luxembourg - and, to be honest, life seemed to be heading downhill fast.

And then I remembered who I was. And of all my fans, my Ronettes, my sponsors (although that's a moot point at the moment), my world.

And that Olympic Medal dangling round my neck.

So, I gave myself a kick up the jacksie two weeks ago - weighed myself, burst into tears and sat down to write myself a recovery training session.

As I sit here now, I've been going for just over a week. In that time, I've cycled around 50 miles, re-started my running - and, believe it or not made three public appearances in four days!

I'll tell you all about it in good time - my trips to France and Luxembourg and my public appearances. But for now, relax,

Your man is back.

Keep on tapering

Ron