Its called 'hitting the rails'

Week 2 of my new training regime to win the Himalaya 100 Mile Race in India in November. My eagerly anticpated visit to one of our few remaining pink bits on the map is bound to cause huge interest in that small outpost of the British Empire. I'll obviously be getting in touch with the race organiser (a nice chap called Charles) to make sure he has all the advanced promo stuff he needs for my visit. So far the chap seems a good egg and my entry together with that of the Half Share in the House is confirmed and my flights booked.

So how's training gone in week 2?

It hasn't.

You see what ordinary people don't understand is that the life of an Olympic champion isn't just about personal appearances, medal ceremonies, adulation and appearances on Jonathan Ross. Domestic chores - particularly those normally done by women - sometimes have to take priority. And so it was that I found myself in the middle of a muddy field in Stiletto City over the weekend.

With my eldest Cash Drainer Haille-Minogue currently in Peking for the Chinese Olympics I was handed the task of escorting middle Cash Drainer The Droog to some flippin' pop concert in Chelmsford at the weekend. Prior to going I'd done a decent gym session down at Stallones, ran a nippy 5 mile training run but nothing too strenous - so feeling pretty confident I took my pumps and shorts with me to Chelmsford for something called the V Festival.

And I only went and knacked my bloody knee!

Whilst dodging vomit, mud, obnoxious oiks high on some drugs and sheltering my ears from The Third Pooh From the Left or whatever the name of the ruddy band was, I fell against a metal bar - and that was it. I ended up limping back from the hell hole and I've been laid up ever since.

I now need physio and my knee needs a complete rest for a week - which for an Olympic Champion is darn near a lifetime. Fortunately I'm in France over the weekend doing a touch of long-distance walking to try and build up my stamina. With Himalaya Charlie warning me that this 100 Mile Race is a tad on the hilly side, I thought some dune walking along the coast in Northern France might do me some good.

Obviously though, whilst I've been injured I've had to do some serious couch sitting and I've had time to catch a few bits of the Chinese Olympics in Peking. And what a farce it is. The performance of Paul Radcliffe last Sunday in the marathon was nothing short of woeful and simply adds fuel to the argument for my inclusion in that event this year. Incidentally am I the only one to think that Radcliffe looks a touch feminine when he's running? Maybe a hair cut and different pair of shorts would help him.

But taking away the soft sitting down sports - the rowing boats, sailing boats, horse riding, and bicycling (what is that yobbo event with kids bicycles all about?) - we've not really brought home the bacon have we? The runners have done little, the wrestling chaps haven't been seen, the shooting guys and the bow and arrows team bottled it - in fact only the swimmers have a couple of medals to their name. And, you see in this kiddies mind, these are the proper Olympic sports. The real deal. Forget rounders - in fact, forget any game that needs a bat or a ball - and stick simply to those sports that would make those original Olympians from Italy proud. That means sticking to running, throwing, shooting things and fighting. And that should be it. Otherwise we might just as well include stone skimming, pie eating and bicycles with stabilisers in the flippin' competition.

And another thing. There's no place for kids in the modern Olympics. It's an adult competition. That means there should be no room for little boys in the Jumping In competition. Mind you it warmed the old cockles seeing his adult partner putting the little runt in his place. And no room either for girls throwing things or kicking things. Have you seen those girls playing football? They can't even kick the ball properly!! Just so girly with their 'kick the ball without bending the knee' actions. In fact, follow the Ron way of doing Olympics and you could have the whole thing wrapped up in a week too.

Anyway, its back to the serious stuff this weekend. I'll be making a public appearance at the Rye Summer Classic Series in Rye on Friday. I'm obviously the main VIP and I'm starting the 5K event. I'll also be signing a few autographs and generally meeting some of my loyal Ronnettes. If you're around, why not come along and see me do my anal crunch and pelvic squirt routine?

Hopefully though, by Monday, I'll be back in the old training regime with some better news to report.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Don't panic - I'm back!!!

Well I hasten to utter the words too loudly .... but ... yup. I'm back.

Yer old mucker has wiped the sleep from his eyes and emerged fresh faced and lily livered to face his legion of fans and Ronnettes. No more hiding under stones. No more dodging the media. No more looking away embarrassed when eye contact is made with an adoring fan.

For too long now this kiddie has been hiding his light under a bushel.

But now its fess time.

Where have I been? What have I been doing? Why have I kept quiet? What am I going to do now? And what of that highly publicised Olympic ambition?

Well I'll tell you.

I began the year on a bit of a low. Training wasn't going well. I only had to look at a menu and another 10 pounds in weight clamped itself, limpet-wise to my midriff. The Half Share in the House was giving me grief that I seemed to love my career as an Olympic Champion-in-Waiting more than I loved her. (Bit of a tricky one to defend that one entre nous). But, to be fair, this kiddie was still pulling in the crowds. Like a kind of modern day equivalent of a road running George Best, I continued attracting huge crowds wherever I went. (Mind you I also seemed to attract more than my fair share of nutters, liberal democrats and people from Yorkshire too, but that just goes with the territory I suppose).

But what really caused me to nip behind the bike shed for a few months was a result of some devastating news I received just around the New Year.

I wasn't going to Peking for the Chinese Olympics.

I know. I can sense that you share my disappointment. My shock. My despair.

Now I acknowledge that my Olympic ambitions might appear lofty to mere mortals but I firmly believe that the road I'm on will lead inexorably to Gold in 2012. As sure as retired 110 metre hurdlers are uphill gardeners. So, whilst I was pretty chilled about the Peking bash, twixt you and I, I did think it would have been good to have a bash at the Marathon. I know that I've probably got another six months training needed to bring me up to Olympic standard. But this glorious sport of ours is not just about winning gongs. Its about fellowship. About supporting your team mates. About flying that flag. So that's why I offered myself to the British team off to Peking as a kind of talisman. Just imagine the impact I would have on the team as a mentor to the likes of Paul Radcliffe and that bloke who jumps.

But it wasn't to be. I got blown out. The team bosses just refused to have me along. I know finances are tight – but come on you blazers!!

Anyway that's in the past now. My rejection though did leave some scars that have taken some time to heal And that's why I've kept myself quiet.

But as Peking got off the ground last weekend, I decided to let bygones be hasbeens.

Its time to pull on my Green Flash Dunlops and get back into the groove.

Ron is back.

Not that I've been entirely idle this year mind you. I've pottered around the fine city of Bruges for the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race; I've been to Paris for the Marathon in April – did it in 5 hours 7 minutes (I think I finished 5th); I've been rfto Luxembourg for the Night Run and to the Arctic Circle for the Midnight Sun events in Tromso, Norway (food was eight and half quid a pint!!).

But the biggest is yet to come.

Because in November I'm off with the Half Share in the House to win the Himalaya 100 Mile Race.

How exciting is that?

And so it was that on Sunday, with around 105 kgs in added weight I took in my first proper training race. I travelled to a place called the North to take part in the Great Warford 10 Mile Race.

Now I don't mind missionary work - but let me tell you that is some distance to travel – but indicative of the sacrifices an elite athlete has to make. It took me some 6 hours to get there – although granted we did stop off in the Midlands to get used to funny accents.

I did OK. Went through my anal crunch routine for the locals then zipped through the race in what I thought was a rather nippy 1.52.33. Now, if you think that Paul Radcliffe is aiming to do the Peking Marathon in 2.20 – well, wow, I'm half an hour ahead of him!!

So that's race 1 under my belt – here's to the next ones.

Anyway I'll keep in touch with you once again. I promise no more sulks and no more unexplained absences.

Himalaya here I come!!

Keep on tapering.

Ron