Hey!! It's Christmas - a time of good beer to all men

Deck the bells with walls and cherries!!

Its Christmas time again. And at times like these my thoughts turn to those ordinary people in the world who are not as fortunate as us elite Olympians. You see I know how difficult it is in these Credit Scratch times when money is tight. Some people even have to have Bernard Matthews turkeys, you know!

I thought that I'd just drop you a seasonal line to let you know how my strict regime has been going – and also share with you my thoughts as we approach this festive period.

I must admit Ronettes that I've taken the foot of the electric this last couple of weeks and my training is not quite what it should be – but I'm confident that I'll get things back on track in the New Year. I've not done too many miles as the place has been stuffed with snow, ice and rain. Training is always difficult when the bad weather comes because the Half Share does struggle to get the path and road clear at Ron Towers – despite me buying her a new shovel for her birthday. So, I decided that I'd have a period of rest and focus instead on tapering and carbo loading. I did though make a couple of personal appearances. I pottered up to Caravan County to help start the Kent Christmas Cracker – and enjoyed helping dish out mullered wine and mint pies to runners. Last Saturday I carried out similar duties at the Christmas Pudding Dash in Battle and it was good to catch up with some of the legion of adoring fans I've assembled. Bit of an issue with the mullered wine and Ernie but I chucked him in the back of his Transit and we got out before the police arrived.

I've got my training plans in place for the New Year and I will be stepping up my mileage as I prepare for my celebrity appearance in next year's London Marathon. I've also got a string of overseas races planned in Cork, Bruges, Paris, Luxembourg, Norway, France, Amsterdam and, of course, my return to Indialand in October. So, it's going to be a busy year for Yours Truly as 2012 begins to loom large. I have also suggested that the Half Share puts her back into it and gets some miles under her belt – and I think she appreciated my concern when I pointed out that her midriff was not supposed to be hanging over her pinny.

So what is life like for an Olympic superstar I hear you shouting? I'm visiting family for a couple of days and I'm currently in a place called the Midlands which is somewhere that people go to to get used accents before visiting the north. I've brought my mate Ernie with me to help with my training programme.

Today is Christmas Eve and I'll be holding my usual Training Planning meeting with Ernie later today. We'll probably pop up to the Horse and Cucumber for a couple of tubes then go for a little tour of local places of worship before settling down with a kebab and watch Spartacus. Christmas Day we'll nip to the Rose and Thorn for a sip with the Landlord before sitting down to the full turkey monte which the Half Share should have defrosted by the time we get home. Then it's a well earned kip on the couch whilst the Cash Drainers sit watching Mary Poppins – and that's what is important for me. Christmas is a time for the kids and as long as they enjoy it then I'm happy. Well so long as they keep out of my way and keep the bally noise down.

I'll be returning to Ron Towers on Boxing Day and there's a small chance that I may make an appearance at a local 10K on Sunday. I'll also be aiming to return to Caravan County on New Year's Day for the Deal Bar Run - it says Bra Run in the papers but I presume thats a typing error.

I'll pop back with my Annual Christmas and New Year Message soon – but in the meantime have a happy and merry Christmas. And kids – remember that at this time of year there are always people worse off than yourself, so make sure you keep all your sweets and chocolates safe. You don't want people trying to pinch em!

In the words of the Bobby Davro song – rom pom pom pom.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

What is the point of a hill?

That's it. I've had enough of training like ordinary people. I'll be writing to Sir Sid Coe first thing tomorrow to demand some proper respect for us Olympic greats - and that includes some bally warm weather training.

I've just got back from a personal appearance at the Crowborough 10K. It was cold. It was wet. It was miserable. And it was tough.

Tell me this Ronettes.

What is the point of hills?

I mean. Just what is the bally point?

(To be continued)

Sorry, it's a day later. Had a bit of trouble with Septic Knuckles the Rent Man's stooge so had to lie low for a day.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes. Hills.

Crowborough is built on a hill and the locals' idea of fun is to design a 10K course that includes the local peak - and because it's a two lap course you have to negotiate the damn thing twice.

Well ha flippin ha Crowpeople. I suppose you thought that was funny eh? Good gracious, I swear on the life of Ronnie Corbett I am never doing the thing again. It's just far too much exertion for a Sunday morning. I mean, OK, so I posted a time of 1.09.31, which is just outside the top ten I think, but why? Why? Why?

Why have that hill eh? Indeed, why have any hill? In fact ... what is the point of hills full stop? What useful purpose do they serve eh?

Do you see Sir Steve Bygraves rowing his Olympic canoe down a hill? No!! Do you see Paul Ratcliffe running the women's marathon up the side of a bloody mountain? No!! Do Boxing men fight on the side of the mountains? No!! Do they have uphill hurdles? No!(Oh, OK, some of them funny people in Brighton do uphill hurdling, but that's their business). Do they have fencing matches with one bloke 3 foot higher than his opponent? No!!! Bally No!!!

A resounding 'No' to all of these questions.

And that's because all these sports have decided that it is plain stupid involving hills. You can't sit comfortably on a hill without falling over. You cant put a tube down on a hill without it falling over. Ernie's van rolls down hills without us in it.

So, sort it out Crowborough - and any of those other Flash Harry's who decide it's a bit of a laugh having a race up a hill.

Anyway, I've made my point.

Having recovered from the thing I did train like a proper Olympian today. Ernie said I'd done a Fartlek but I think it was just my pumps squeaking. I ran for about 40 minutes alternating between lightning speed and slow jogging.

But the best news of the day was ...... my plea for warm weather training did NOT fall on deaf eyes. And so, tomorrow, I fly to Barcelona for a couple of days warm weather pootling. So, you can say Bonjour to this kiddie - this time tomorrow I'll be feasting on Bratwurst and Steins of Lager as I introduce myself to those nice people in the Land of the Popping Sun.



N'est Pas Non Amis - and Sayonara.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Global warming - you're having a laugh!!

I had already committed to a Personal Appearance in West Sussex on Sunday so when I woke early-ish, it wasn't just the kebab carton by my pillow that concerned me.

First of all - where is West Sussex? Surely there's only one Sussex? But I'd promised to appear - for no fee whatsoever I might add - at something called the Foxtrot Five in a place called Shoreham. I don't know if you have ever been to Shoreham but I'm sure it looked great in the 1950's.

That's what I promised to do - and I didn't want to let down my followers. So I set off in Ernie's van with Half Share in the back sitting on his stepladder.

Dear people.

The heavens opened. The wind was blowing Frenchmen across the channel. The hailstones were coming down quicker than Betty Trollop's drawers.

In short the weather was horrendous.

We arrived in Shoreham about an hour before race time - but the weather was so bad we had to stay in the van. The half share started whingeing saying she'd get wet going for the teas - but, hey, do you hear Tyrone Woods' caddie moaning about having to carry his golf sticks? Do you hear Henry Cooper's bloke in the corner moan when he's asked to take the lid off the vaseline? Do you hear Lord Redcliffe's boat people carp when he asks them to out his canoe on the Olympic river? A big three times 'No'.

I mean its fine when these people want to hang on to your shirt tails when they get a sniff of the Gold Medal - but signing up to an elite athlete's back-up team is not something you do on a whim. It demands commitment. It demands dedication. And yes, sometimes you will get wet.

So I reminded the Half Share of this principle as she mooched off to find a couple of bacon butties and two teas with one sugar.

Anyway, back to sporting excellence.

I ran the bally thing. And the weather didn't let up. It poured with rain and the wind blew like you wouldn't believe. It blew all the way to the half way stage as the race took us along the estuary - and then we turned back and ran against the strongest headwind I've ever experienced - accompanied by hailstones.

Of course as all this is going on, I got a couple of smart beggars asking me for an autograph. Well ha flippin ha - so I told them in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interrupting an Olympic training session for a couple of oiks.

I eventually got round the thing in 56.13 - which is not too far away from world record pace.

So, despite the conditions I was reasonably happy.

I eventually arrived back to find the van only to discover that the Half Share had deposited a plastic bag with my clothes where the van should have been.

It was a petulant display which, frankly was nothing more than childish. And the money she'd left for my train fare was only just correct - leaving me with no spare spondoolinks for a tube or a pie.

A highly unsatisfactory weekend.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Starting to ramp up now

Well its that time that all elite athletes dread - the Saturday after the Friday night. Naturally I've not been on the lash because ... well because I am elite! Plus Ernie's van broke down last night and he couldn't pick me up from the kebab wagon, so I did without the usual Friday night half keg. Instead I thought I'd try and pick up some tips from a contemporary of mine and watched Trevor Wogan on Children Indeed last night.

Well if anything can give you a bally hangover its watching that drivel. I mean I know us celebs are rolly models and I know we have to put our bit back into the community. But I tell you this I'm giving that charity a wide berth when I'm an Olympic champion. Its just so full of dreary people! Nope - when I get to choose my telly appearances for poor people I'm going to go on one of those jollies to somewhere hot and sunny like those comedians do - always assuming that the money is right of course.

But sitting there last night with the Half Share I did get to thinking of some of the places that I've been lucky enough to visit in this so-far glittering career of mine - Indialand, France, Belgium, Welwyn Garden City, that place where they wear clogs and drink a lot, Norway and who could forget Luxembourg? And, you know, in that time I must have whipped the backsides of many different personalities representing many different countries. I've enjoyed the company of some of them, I've felt like decking some of them - but they all have something in common - I stuffed them where it mattered. Here's some of them:

Paul Ratcliffe - I used to respect him and we often shared a few tubes after a race. I usually beat him but I ignore his time of 2 hours and a few minutes for that London Marathon race because I didn't feel well. But I went right off him when he stopped for a poo in the middle of a race. Some of us have standards you know.

Haille Gebrselassie - well he might have the current marathon world record but I beat him in a 10K in Bexhill a couple of years ago and he hasn't spoken to me since.

Paul Tergat - had a memorable battle with him at the 2007 London Marathon. The race between us was made a bit more difficult than we first anticipated because he was running dressed in a Motorola Mobile Phone costume and he blamed that for the fact he had to drop out. Who finished? Who didn't? I rest my bag.

Ron Hill - oh very funny. I bowled up to race in Bolton near a place called the north and this bloke turned up claiming to be Ron Hill. I have to say he pigged me off a bit because some of the crowd actually thought he was the famous Ron. As Ronnie Corbett used to say, "Say La V".

Eddie Large - mullered him in a 5 miler in Reading. Good bloke though - bought me a kebab afterwards.

Mildred Sampson - claimed to be an Olympic Marathon runner but I made her eat dust when I beat her in the Folkestone 10 a few years ago. I did feel a bit embarrassed when I gave her a bit of lip and accused her of being an umposter - then when I got home she had, indeed, competed at the Olympics in 1924.

Beth Wilkinson - she might have designs on making the GB squad but she's yet to beat me fair and square in the marathon.

Anyway, I haven't got time to daydream I went out for a nippy 4 mile run round our lanes this morning and it brought a dash of reality to my otherwise star-studded life. I was amongst my own people, ordinary people and some women too. No crowds, no autographs. Just me and the wind and the chilly air of Good Old Blighty. A vision cruelly stripped from my mind when I went backside over thingy after slipping on some dog poo.

Tomorrow I'm off with the Half Share for a bash at something called the Foxtrot Five. Its in a place called West Sussex but I don't mind. It could be rough, it could be unfriendly, it could get nasty - but once the car journey with the Half Share is over, it could be me bringing home the bacon once again.

What a life I have eh?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

And another thing ....

I'm still smarting about the Old Deer 10K I starred in last Sunday.

I've already griped enough - but one other thing struck me this morning when I woke up next to the Half Share.

It was called the Old Deer 10K - but I never saw any old deers at all - they were mainly elite athletes like me or women.

So what went wrong there then Captain eh?

A nippy off road three or four miles this morning then its round Ernies for a bacon butty.

Bliss.

Keep on tapering

Ron

When missionary work goes pear shaped

I understand that I have responsibilities.

I'm an elite athlete that is proud to win an Olympic Gold medal for my fellow Englishmen - and women, sometimes. So, I try to make sure some of my time is allocated to ordinary people to try and inspire them to reach my widths.

As Val Doonican used to say "You don't get nowt for something".

So, with my responsible hat on I trundled to Livingstone's Pit yesterday with the Half Share and the eldest Cash Drainer, Haille Minogue, in tow. The idea was to do a bit of hand shaking, do a quick burst of my warm up routine, a nippy 10K and then retire to the Green Room for a spot of hospitality.

Well, well, well, what went wrong there then chaps?

I'll leave it to others to articulate the shortcomings of the event - The Old Deer Park 10K - you can have a butchers at some of the comments made here.

I have my own gripes though readers:

1. No appearance money (sorry, I know we shouldn’t bring in the filthy lucre business, but I have to eat!)
2. No hospitality whatsoever
3. I had to stand amongst the ordinary people - no VIP area
4. Nowhere to do my 'routine'
5. A shambles of an event meant I have no idea of my time - so I suppose I'll just have to stick it down as another 29 minute dead race.

A word of warning to Race organisers - we may be celebrities, but we’re almost real people too. We need to have things sorted out for us or we'll just shrink back into our celebrity bubble.

Now shape up!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

PS Just to put the hat on a miserable day, Ernie's van got stuck in the mud! London? You can stick it Livingstone!

Wet weather training?

Now we all know that elite athletes need to dedicate their lives to training. No Gold Medals were ever won by ordinary people were they? Although, granted some women have been given them. No - it takes a superhuman effort to get on that Olympic podium.

And that's exactly what I thought when I woke up this morning to be greeted by the Sister of all storms. The rain was lashing down and the wind so strong it was blowing Irishmen across the Channel.

But I was cool. I was off to Deal to do a spot of missionary work in Caravan County and take part in their little Deal 5 race. Just as I was about to leave the house though I suddenly remembered the letter I'd received from Sir Sid Coe about my Olympic entry. Now you might think this was just an excuse for me to bottle out of running in the wind and rain. Well yah, boo, sucks. Just take a look at the letter from His Holiness - I've copied it in full below:

Dear Elite Athlete

With the English 2012 Olympic Games just 1000 days away, we need all you elite athletes to be in tip top condition.

We expect you to train hard - at least Tuesdays and Thursday nights if you can manage it, please - but we don't want you to overdo it. Remember you're representing England, the Queen, me and other leading people such as Simon Cowell when you pull on the vest.

We need you there in one piece in 2012 - so don't take any unnecessary risks please. In particular, you need to watch out if its raining hard and blowing a gale. You could slip on a leaf, trip over a puddle or even pull a hammy if you're not warmed up.

So, our advice is not to go out if its lashing.

Got that?

Yours

His Highness Sir Sid Coe

PS If any of you know of any potential sponsors for my good friend Ernie's van, give me a bell.


So there you have it! If Sid tells me to stay in, I have no option really. Thats why I didnt.

But whilst I focused on other important stuff like diet and getting sponsors, the Half Share started having a go about the beer cans and kebab boxes that me and Ernie had accidentally chucked in the hedge last night. The bottom line is that I shot out of the house before I got a size nine Timpson up my Davro.

And before I knew I'd done a three and a half mile drudge - arriving back an hour later looking like I'd gone ten rounds with Tommy Cooper.

And you thought the life of an Olympic Elite Gold Medal Athlete was cushty?

Hmmph.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

In the bleak midwinter

Well the clocks have moved sideways which means Midwinter will soon be upon us. And as David Dimbleby often says "When the clocks move, its time to get your backside into the groove. Man."

so Ernie and I sat down at the end of our strategic blue cheese session earlier this week to start to put together my 1000 day plan to guarantee London 2012 Olympic glory. There are, indeed, just 1000 days left before the opening of the London games and I'll be sitting down soon with my Olympic mucker Syd Coe to formulate my role in those games (apart, of course, from winning the Marathon).

Ernie and I also looked at a plan to hone my fitness and performance and as part of that he's suggesting that I have a dry November. I considered his proposal for a couple of minutes ... and, you know, Ronettes, I'm almost tempted to give it a try. But all sorts of questions go through your mind when faced with a mental idea like that. "Is Ernie off his nut?". "Will it work?". "Why?". And so on and so on.

But I'll mull on it over the weekend and see what happens.

The other thing I'm mulling over is this bally sponsorship lark. I'm having beggar-all luck in attracting the major corporates to join the Ron bandwagon. So far, I've got Sid Pilkington, our window cleaner, to give me two plastic buckets to hold my used wet towels. Not very impressive for an international athlete eh?

But I do appreciate that we're in the middle of a credit snatch so I know I need to be patient.

But Ernie has suggested that the next time I make a celebrity appearance I organise a mass warm-up exercise and take people through my Pelvic Squirt and Anal Crunch routine. It's not a bad idea though. It would be open to ordinary people and women as well as athletes - so it would also look to widen my appeal as well.

Anyway, I'll think on it.

Off to Caravan County on Sunday for the Deal 5 - should be a shoe-in for a podium finish.

Will let you know how I get on.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Sponsors needed

Right.

Just completed my strategic plan for 2010 - which will not be far away from my Winning Gold in 2012 time. So, I've decided that my orange all-in-one lycra and my Dunlop Green Flash are no longer up to it. I'm fed up of travelling to events in the back of Ernie's transit.

If I'm going to win Gold and represent this country properly I need the proper kit. So, I've had a blue cheese session with my professional advisers - well Ernie - and this is my 'must-have' list for 2012 Olympic Glory.

1. New running kit - must be capapable of holding all the right bits in and in the right direction. No more lycra - I've seen enough Police Stations this year to last me a lifetime. I'd like proper running shorts and proper running shirts - with, natch, sponsors logos emblazoned.

2. New pumps. Dont care what sort. Oh and if you could chuck in a few packets of whitener as well.

3. Drinks carrier. Enough to fit a dozen tubes of Leffe.

4. A new anorak.

5. A proper car. Anything so long as it doesnt have a coat hanger for an arial and it mustn't be French. A new van for Ernie would be a nice touch as well.

6. Hollands Pies have been a rubbish sponsor - come on Pukka Pies or Peter's Pies - what are you waiting for!!

7. An energy drink sponsor - somebody like Newcastle Brown Ale would be good.

8. A travel sponsor too - I'm getting a bit embarrased at the number of lifts I'm poncing from Nice Work. Plus, whenever I come back I always have a headache and I whiff of Pale Ale. I dont care who sponsors my travel really but it would be nice to have a prestige name like Millets or Poundland. Or even a private benefactor. As Des O'Connor used to say "Its always nice to have a rich benefcator sponsoring your travel when you're trying to secure Olympic glory for your country"

9. That racing driver chappie Jensen Buffon has a watch sponsor - so maybe somebody like Timex would fancy giving it a go? The Half Share rather cruelly jibed that I'd be better off with a calendar sponsor but I think that was just jealousy.

10. Viagra. Dunno why - that was Ernie's idea. Dunno what they make but Ernie says it stands to reason. He's lost me I'm afraid.

Anyway those are my priorities - but obviously any other stuff you want to chuck my way, I'll be proud to wear it on your behalf.

Just think you could soon be sharing my podium! And for those that say 'poo' to the idea, dont come crying to me when me and my mates from Pukka Pies are featured on the front cover of the Harlow Bugle eh?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

It’s been a bit of a summer and a half for Yours Truly.

A touch of joy here and there but also a heavy dose of disappointment too. As Jonathan Ross's brother often says though - “when the going gets tough, its time for a pie”.

I think what really bothered me was not getting selected for the GB World Championships squad – I had been training well and I'd stuck in some pretty impressive times – and, well let’s just say I think politics were responsible. How on earth these selectors can continue to ignore raw talent is beyond me. So, instead of the World’s I decided to train up for the Harvel 5 instead – and beggar them I thought, who needs Uriah Bolt anyway?

My spring had started in a fairly positive vein though. I popped down to my favouritist small European country to take part, once more, in the Luxembourg Night Run. Despite being far from fit due to an attack of … well it was Ernie's birthday that started it and I hadn’t quite dried out by the time I reached the start line. We had popped out for a beer at the end of April and just because it was May 3rd when I got back the Half Share took some sort of offence. I did eventually make it up to her – though I did have a little stutter! She asked me to buy her a present - and it wasn’t even her birthday! She asked me for something that went from 0 to 150 in three seconds.

My choice of a set of bathroom scales was probably not my best decision.
Anyway, I decided to trot round the Half Marathon and did what I thought was a pretty impressive time of 2 hours 37.31 – which was not far short of the time taken by the marathon winner – so I was satisfied with that. Next stop was Montreuil in Northern France for my annual argy bargy with the frogs. I'd love to tell you how I did in the race but a little incident with a crate of red wine means the whole bally weekend is now but a fog.

My fitness was starting to return though and I chucked in a nippy 5K at Bexhill where I destroyed a pretty handy field with a time of 31.39 which put me in great stead for my attack on the Harvel 5 in June. I threw myself round the course in a stunning 49.56 – and then my sodding knee went again!!

That was basically it for the summer.

I did venture to somewhere called the north for a 10K in Ulverston. Good God – now I understand where the expression 'Grim up north' comes from!! It was a bit of a family affair though as myself, the Half Share, the Droog, Haille Minogue and the Sod all joined me in the race. The family thought it was a great laugh to sod off and leave me to sign autographs at the start – which explained my somewhat tardy 1.08.26.

Until the weekend just gone my only other Personal Appearance this year was in September when I ventured overseas with the Old Soaks (aka Nice Work) for a bash at the Somme Marathon – although I decided to stick to what I'm superb at and focused on winning the 10K race. I worked my way through an impressive field of athletes like a wooden spoon through butter and dipped over the line in 1.09.25.
And so to now. The present.

I'm just recovering from a nasty bout of tendonitis so my fabulous time in Amsterdam at the weekend is but a small step on the big journey.

I'm up and off again this weekend but I'll have to give the racing a miss as I'm the guest celebrity starter for the Beckley 10K – but I'm hoping to nip out to Caravan County for the Deal 5 next week before more missionary work the weekend after in Richmond.

You know – I think I'm up for a biggie very shortly – and God help those Kenyans and those Tangerines when it happens.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Orange, Orange and more Orange

So, off I went to Holland at the weekend. My motives were two-fold. First of all to resume my relentless but inevitable journey towards Olympic Gold in 2012; and secondly to do, if you like, a spot of missionary work amongst some of our poorer European allies.

Holland is very orange and as a nod of the cap towards the Dutch people I decided it would be appropriate to wear my new all-in-one Orange lycra running strip.

So, off we set with the Nice Work party - and a right motley, rum sodden bunch they turned out to be! Perfect company I thought. Before landing in Holland we visited somewhere called Netherland and I trekked for ages trying to find that Martin Jackson's ranch but gave up looking. I never liked his music anyway.

Amsterdam was bustling when we got there sometime late in the afternoon and I decided a couple of tubes of the local hooch was in order. Well, that was more or less it until I started feeling a touch peckish. There was a cafe next door to the bar so I popped in for a couple of cakes and a coffee ... well goodness knows what they put in their pastries but I can tell you that I felt like I'd got banjaxed by a steam hammer!

After I'd apologised to the policeman I decided to call it a day and get some shut eye. But do you know, waking up on Sunday morning I felt a familar stirring. And despite having decided to decline the offer of a celebrity place in their Half Marathon - I just felt that I'd be letting down Queen and Country. So, to mimic the words of Bobby Davro, I decided to "Give it a Go Barney".

And my, am I glad I did.

I decided to run in the 7.5K race. And as I lined up outside the Olympic Stadium I could feel the spirits of all those Ancient Italians who are immortalised in the Olympic movement. And you know I think they were trying to tell me something. I could feel a kind of Olympic aura emanating from these ancient Olympians through this Olympic Stadium built in 1928 and then through to yours truly - and as I looked up at the glorious blue sky my thoughts turned to 2012 and my place on that Olympic podium.

Inspired? You bet your middle dollar I was.

So, I decided to treat the locals to my famous anal crunch and pelvic squirt warm-up - but, dear reader, let me advise you of one thing. Never try this famous Ron routine in skin tight Orange lycra. Apology Number 2 required to the local constabulary.

My race was a masterful display of tactics, strategy and sheer animal speed. Once again, I scythed my way through an international field of elite athletes. I finished the race in 49.26 - which wasn't quite a BP but having pipped one Kenyan to the line, how delighted was I to discover that I'd only gone and done it arund an hour quicker than the Kenyan bloke who won the marathon?

OK, maybe he did run a bit further than I did - but, hey, whose fault was that? Nobody asked him to run all that way did they?

After receiving my medal and a quick peck from the Queen or somebody we retired to the bar to celebrate.

I have to say, Ronnettes, I was chuffed to bits to pull on the vest once again - after such a lengthy absence I realised just how much I'd missed the cut and thust of international competition.

That's my lot though for foreign travel for a little while. I'm due to vist Belgium again in March and I also have races planned in Paris, which is near Franec, Luxembourg, Norway, The Somme and India amongst other places next year. Before then I do have a couple of celebrity appearances to make. I realise I have some work to do to get my fitness back on track - and I need to work hard at raising the old profile again.

I'll be in Beckley on Sunday - and I've got my Summer round up to come too. But in the words of that bloke who does the weather on BBC2 - that's the lot for tonight.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Wow! What a place that was

Just back from Amsterdam - and I certainly caused a storm there! Was it my new orange all-in-one lycra? Or was it my magnificent performance against the Kenyans?

I'll let you know shortly.

One thing is for sure though.

This kiddie is back!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Right - that's it. I've had enough

I've been sat on the sidelines for too long now. London 2012 is not far away now and if I'm to justify the tag of pre-race favourite for Olympic Marathon gold I need to get back into training - and sharpish.

The last five months havent been particularly happy for yours truly. I've had a stop-start running summer - with more stops then starts between you, me and the gatebell.

I'll update you with what's been happening a little later today, if I can. But my running experiences in France, Luxembourg, the Somme and a place in England called the North have left their mark in many ways.

I have a busy schedule of personal appearances next year with events in Belgium, France, Norway, Holland and a special return to see my colonial chums in Indialand.

This weekend I'm off to the land of cheese, clogs and foaming mouths - yep, I'm a celebrity entrant for the Amsterdam Half Marathon - but a nasty case of tendonitis has put paid to me competing. I'll still pop over there though - I'm off with my mates at Nice Work so at least I'm guaranteed a beer.

I'll let you know how I get on this weekend. But in the words of that woman who reads the news "It's great to be back".

Keep on tapering.

Ron

In search of the Sevenoaks 7

"Have you heard of the Sevenoaks 7?" says the Half Share yesterday morning.

Well I thought the Sevenoaks 7 was a murderous gang who preyed on innocent people, pummelling them into submission and leaving them for dead.

Well it isnt a bunch of blokes from Caravan County its a race in that fair county. A race up and down some stupid hills. Prey on innocent people, pummel them and leave them for dead? So, no change there then.

The Sevenoaks 7 is a silly event. It has too many hills and too many lumpy bits in the ground. And as far as I'm concerned, if you see even one of the Sevenoaks 7 - deck them.

So now you've heard it now from the zebra's mouth.

The only redeeming factor from this gruelling event was that I got a BP - yup my 1 hour 21 minute is the fastest 7 miler I've ever done - OK it might be the only one I've done, but lets not split beards eh?

Next week? Its off to do some sparring with me old muckers in France,

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Never run with children or animals

To Barkland yesterday. Eldest Cash Drainer Haille Minogue has decided that the Olympic Running miracle that simmers within my highly toned athletic frame is, somehow, a genetic phenonemon. So, not content with basking in my glory she decides that she's going to take up the sport although, obviously, being a) a kid and b) a female one, she's never going to scale the dizzy heights experienced by your man here.

However, I don't like to let the thing down, so the Half Share and I, with The Sod in tow made the long journey to a place called Reading in Barkland for a spot of missionary work.

Reading is the kind of place the newspapers write about when they want to talk about the Credit Crunch. Riding on the crest of an economic slump it is famous for having a suicide pact with Baghdad. Its poor residents shuffle aimlessly along streets lined with Chicken Shops, Kebab Take-Aways, Pubs and Curry Shops. In short, being a person from the north, its the kind of place I could quite happily settle in.

And if you'd like to know what Reading was like in the 1960's - why not pop along and visit it?

So, to the race and the locals in Barkland had their first opportunity to see at close hand the phenomenon that is me. My, how they enjoyed my famous warm-up prugramme of anal crunches and pelvic aquirts - although the Half Share did comment again that I ought to mend the rip in my orange lycra all-in-one.

Haille and her Student friend spent the pre-race period putting on make-up and generally behaving like a couple of 18 year olds - sticking their tongues out at old men, giggling at my lycra and stealing sweets from the kids etc etc. Though they did see some things they havent seen for some time - soap, morning and a smoke free environment spring to mind. But getting them to prepare themselves properly became a bit of a nightmare and after taking the fourth bottle of WKD off them I decided to lay the law down and slapped round the head with a current issue of the NME.

The race began in typical fashion for your man here. A crowded start with dozens of Ronettes all trying to get a glimpse of me made for something of a sluggish start and although I soon picked up the pace it took some scything through the field to make my mark on the leaderboard.

I eventually finished the race in just over the hour - a time considerably quicker than that Kenyan managed in the London Marathon last week or so - and hung around waiting for Half Share and Haille. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered them hanging around at the water table waiting, so they claimed, for me! Both reckoned to have finished before me!! Imagine that!

As if.

So I clocked Haille round the lug once more for telling lies and made my way to one of three pubs adjacent to the finish line - which made me muse what a way that would be to liven up the Olympic Marathon! Cross the line - me leading a couple of Kenyans and Tangerenians - and there you have it! A couple of bars, a barbecue and a kebab wagon - hey, how cool is that? Much better than having to wait for some bloke with a blazer, a stretched-faced blonde bimbo and a couple of orphans to give you your medal. And as for that effeminate bunch of flowers - no thank you!

Anyway the Olympics remain my goal - kebab wagon or not - and my training is going well. I just did a kind of homecoming 2 mile cool down along the sea front this evening. Next up on the competetion front is a little trip to one of my favourite places - Montreuil-sur-Mer in Northern France for an international race against a bunch of foreigners.

Cant wait!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Well done to the teapot

Well there was a tear in this kiddie's eye as Sammy Wanjiru won the London Marathon. Sure his victory was made all the easier due to my absence but it still took some bottle. His time of 2 hours 5 minutes was not as quick as my Hastings 5 time but it was still an impressive time. I particularly liked his teapot costume.

I'm not sure what happened to Paul Radcliffe but there was a bloke who looked just like him dressed as a fire engine - and that may have been him.

I was a little disappointed not to see my old foes the Bakewell Tarts make more of an impact but maybe my absence made them a little complacent eh?

Anyway, of more importance, my training schedule is bang on track after a swift 5 or 6 miles along the seafront - and call me smug, but my time tonight was also faster than Wanjiru on Sunday!

A couple more training sessions and I should be fit for my next personal appearance in Barkland next Monday.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Much the poorer for my absence - but Good Luck Bakewell Tarts

Its a sunny Sunday morning here in Ron Towers and as the Half Share in the House darns the holes in my new orange lycra all-in-one, my thoughts are with those taking part in today's London Marathon.

As you know, your man here did have a celebrity place in the line-up but I have to think of the long -term - do I really want to burn myself out today on a little club event in London when I have an Olympic Marathon to run in 2012?

There will be a little tear in this kiddie's eye though come 10 o'clcok-ish when my old adversaries the Bakewell Tarts line up for what will obviously be a much easier day now for them. But its not just about those Kenyan men, those astonishing Tangerinians and, of course, the Bakewell Tarts. Its about thousands of ordinary people and women lining up for what could be one of the greatest days of their life.

In the words of John Motson "Its not what you do for my country, lend me your ears". Or something like that.

So far as my training is concerned, I've not had a bad week. Less Juice More Whoosh being my slogan for this week. Only a couple of tubes, one kebab and an Indian all week. Impressive eh? On top of that I've managed to do some intensive training on five days - so I'm starting to get back into shape. My short term targets are to enjoy - if an elite athlete can really enjoy a punishing training schedule - another week's training. Next weekend sees me popping over to my spiritual French home - Le 2K - for a spot of beach work. On Monday I'm off to see the eldest, Haille Minogue, and take part in a 10K in a place called Shinfield near Reading in somewhere called Barkland or something (no, I've no idea either). It will be a nice treat for the people of Barkland to see me and I'll look forward to spreading the Ron word.

Anyway I'm off for a 5 miler before the London Marathon.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Well if that doesn't have the Kenyans dobbing themselves I don't now what will

Popped down to Hastings this morning and starred in their Hastings Runners 5 Mile Race.

I like the Hastings Runners - think it must be the alcohol that knits us together - and they usually put on a good show.

And your man here did us all proud with a blistering run. Although I'm still waiting for the results, I heard a few people comment on just how quick I looked. A tad over 50 minutes when I dipped over the line and I only saw two people ahead of me so I reckon I came third.

So, come on Kenyans, come on Tangerinians, come on Upper Voltaists - what have you got in your tank to respond to that? As the famous Newsreader Huw Edwards once said - its not how you respond to victory that counts, its .... well I can't remember, but it was good what he said.

So, it was a happy kiddie that took the plaudits, signed a few chests and made my way back to Ron Towers for an afternoon on the sofa watching the footie and sinking a few tubes. I do have a little soft spot for the red half of Manchester and so I was feeling a little miffed about the final score. I blame it on that Tevez bloke. I saw him once when I ventured to London for a spot of autograph signing - and I tell you something. There's nothing wrong with your telly - he really is that ugly.

Anyway, feeling rather chuffed with my week of Olympic training. Another solid week ahead of me with my next race a double header in Reading and Chesham on Bank Holiday Monday.

Till then Ronettes.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

I'm sorry

The time has come to apologise.

After a constant stream of inuendo, smears and briefing against my opponents, the pressure has finally got to me.

Its time to say "I'm sorry".

I'm sorry for putting all this weight on and I take full responsibility.

For the avoidance of doubt then:

"I take full responsibility for what happened. That's why the person who was responsible went immediately."

And that's why the bloke on the pie counter at Ashbees the butchers in town has been sacked.

To be honest though I am slightly miffed that another prominent personality appears to be copying my move and jumping on the Ron "I apologise" bandwagon. But, hey, that's the way the cooker rumbles.

There.

That's sorted that.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

No panic - 2012 is back on track

Well, I've just proved again that class is most deffo a permanent fixture in your man's make-up.

After admittedly weighing in a tad over the limit for a Cruiserweight Sumo Bloke I have knocked out a schedule and tonight went for a 3 mile wadddle down the Harbour. It took me about 40 minutes - so if that doesnt put the fear of God up the Kenyans I dont know what will.

2012?

Slice of gateaux Ronettes.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Parasites!!

Back to my globetrotting again last weekend and a visit to France. I was due to take part in the Paris Marathon and grabbed a freebie trip with the gin-soaked bozos that masquerade as Nice Work.

Not taking part in the Marathon was a bit of a disappointment for me but it's just another of those things that us elite athletes have to put up with. And at times like this when the old spirit starts to lag I think about how those other top runners must feel when their races go pear-shaped. Paul Radcliffe has had to put up with some major disappointments but still keeps going - bottling and surrendering in the Grease Marathon, stopping for a poo in the London Marathon - just part and parcel of life as an Olympian.

So, I just decided to crack on with life and go to Paris anyway. Well at least I thought we were going to Paris but we ended up in a place called Paree - but it was still full of French people and so I didn't make a fuss. Popping into the Expo I thought it only right to help contribute towards the intent cordial and nipped into the VIP area to offer my personal apology for the race losing one of its leading celebs.

It was here that the day started to head south down the strasse. No sooner had I got in the room and made my way towards the bar than a French bloke grabbed me, said he was the Mayor - and welcomed me to Gay Paree! And it didnt stop there - he then tried to plant a couple of smackers on my cheeks!! Well, celebrity Olympian or not, there's no way I'm suffering that badly for my art. So I decked the bloke and continued my journey to the bar thinking no more about it.

Unfortunately I didnt make it. I'd not gone 20 feet before I was manhandled back out to the exit and chucked unceremoniously into the throngs of ordinary people queuing for a free energy bar in the Expo Hall. Ernie being the good mate he is did what all good friends would do in the circumstances - continued fighting his way to the buffet and I spied him out of the corner of my eye as I was being hoyed out doing something rather uncivilised into a potted fern.



I decided to wait for Ernie in a local bar but after a couple of hours and a few tubes of the local wallop I'd convinced myself that I could restore civilised relations with the local bigwigs. I thought it would be worth trying to disguise myself as one of the leading athletes so I stripped down to my new all-in-one orange lycra running suit and managed to just get inside the tented VIP area. I'd just started my warm-up routine of anal crunches and pelvic squirts when the same bally goons spotted me. I couldnt even utter a "Buenos Aires Fraulein" before they grabbed me and after a little local difficulty with the revolving door - they were chucking me too hard and I kept ending up back at their feet - I found myself in the Glasgow position (face down in the gutter). One of the goons had managed to damage my new lycra kit and the old jacksie was hanging out the bottom of the bally thing so I had no choice but to wait bum-down in a plant pot until Ernie returned.

By now the old chap had had his fill of the freebie food and drink and he was as oiled as a Yorkshire Chip Shopkeeper by the time he collapsed at my feet. Unfortunately not for the first time I had to have a word with the bloke about his drinking. He alwsys denies he has a problem with drink - "I cant be an alcoholic" he usually claims "Because I don't do meetings" - and to be fair you cant argue with that can you?



We decided to take it easy and sat eating some of the buffet that Ernie had managed to stuff down his trousers and started to muse about the French. We do seem to end up having 'issues' with them whenever our paths cross - but then, we thought, it aint all bad news being French. True, the whole world hates you but consider these good reasons for being French:

1. If their economy is bad, they just blame the Brits. If a war is started anywhere, they just blame the Brits. If their farmers are upset, they just blame the Brits. If they lose their car keys, they just blame the Brits.
2. You dont have to learn French as a foreign language.
3. When speaking fast you can make yourself sound gay.
4. You get to eat insect food like snails and frog's legs.
5. If there's a war you finish really early.
6. You don't have to read the subtitles on those late night black and white films.
7. You can test your own nuclear weapons in other people's countries.
8. You can be ugly and still pull the birds.
9. You don't have to bother with toilets, just wee in the street.
10. Your mates dont laugh at you because your nan has a moustache.

Anyway after wrapping his pac-a-mac around my backside to hide the rips we wendled our way back to the hotel to catch up with our fellow athletes. Not finding anybody around we knocked on a couple of doors - why are people so grumpy at 2 o'clock in the morning? I went to bed convinced that their only problem was simply that they were a few drinks behind us.

Sunday morning and we made our way to what the Fench call the Marathon Start area - and what any sane person with half a brain would call a chaotic shambles masquerading as an international sporting event. I made my way down to the Elite Start to pass on my best wishes to the Kenyans but they couldnt speak much English and didnt really understand what I was saying - and I'm afraid there was another unpleasant altercation between Ernie and I, a couple of Kenyans, a Belgian with a big nose and a few of those goons we'd encountered the prevous evening.

In the end we'd had our fill of French and French authority and decided to keep a low profile for the rest of the day. We found ourselves tucked away in a small bar on the marathon route. From there we watched the 40,000 or so runners making their way towards somewhere called the Chompseleesay. Bizarrely most of the runners were Indian or Pakistani - the locals greeting them all by shouting "Ali". Such fun - an afternoon sampling the local plonk, a couple of omelettes and we were settled.

So, all in all a pleasant enough weekend and we arrived back in Blighty with a few bruises to show but convinced that we had once again very firmly put your man here back in the public domain.

On my return to Blighty I've been working hard at thinking about how to get my Olympic training schedule back into gear. My short term targets have been modified and I'm putting my London Marathon place on the back burner whilst I get myself back into some kind of fighting state.

Instead of doing the London Marathon, I'm hoping to take up an offer of a celebrity place at the Night Run in Luxembourg next month - with the possibility of a marathon run in Iceland in August. Before then I do have a return to the land of snails and garlic with my annual pilgrimage to Montreuil for the Ramparts 10K - will there by fireworks again?

Well lets see what the next couple of weeks bring first!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

The perils of being an elite athlete

Its all right for you ordinary people - and you women!!

The last six weeks have been an utter tale of woe, woe and woe again - and its at times like this that you begin to understand what it must have been like when Paul Radcliffe bottled out of the Olympic Marathon in Grease.

Six weeks ago I had it all mapped out - a few weeks back in training and the old Olympic dream was back on track again. Right? Wrong!!

Sure I managed to get my first two weeks of training in - but my attempt at putting that training to competitive use was washed out - literally - by the torrential rain we had last month. “Oh right - fair weather runner”, I hear you saying. Well yah boo sucks as Andrew Marr would say - does Haille Gabriellwotsit train in Manchester? Does Paul Radcliffe spend his winter months in Brentwood? Of course they don't - they beggar off to sunnier climes! Well what's good for the goose is good for the seagull as far as I'm concerned. So there was no way I was venturing out in sub-zero temperatures and hissing rain.

Yeah, OK then - fair weather running.

Things looked up a bit at the beginning of the month though when I accompanied the Nice Work mob on their annual junket to Bruges for the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race. Its normally a gin-fuelled weekend and this year was no exception. Meeting the rest of the party at some God unearthly hour In Ashford and the scene resembled a fire drill outside my local Lidl. However after a weekend diet of God's Own Brew, chocolate, chips and some kind of salad cream stuff and I was ready to rumble on race day.



The race was full of Belgiumites and French people but the rest of the field was OK and they looked on in obvious awe as I went through my new Credit Crunch and Pelvic Thrust Warm Up routine - a routine made all the more memorable with my new tangerine Lycra all-in-one running suit. Unfortunately I'd overdone it a bit on the old Leffe and chocolate bit the night before and the ripping noise on my third anal crunch confirmed my worst fear - there was a tad more of this kiddie showing than I would have wished.

However a tear in the backside of my shorts was not going to stop me and as I crouched at the line ready for my first competitive race of 2009 I felt a surge of confidence run through my body – and down my leg. Although I hoped it was sweat my worst fears were soon confirmed and I had to nip to the loo rather sharpish – and I had beggared up my start.

Nevertheless I soon ramped up and enjoyed the run out – I finished in an impressive 1 hour 48 minutes – and let me tell you, if that hasn't put the fear of God up the Kenyans I don't know what will!!

So, with my season under way I returned to training with the Paris Marathon firmly in my sights – and my are those Parasites in for a treat.

Or so I thought.

First of all I collected a foot injury and that put me out of training for ten days. Just got over that in time to turn up for our local shindig down in Hastings where the Half Marathon is an opportunity for many thousands of locals to catch a glimpse of me. I'm a kind of local hero in this part of Sussex and I always try and put on a show for them – its a kind of reward for all those ordinary people who do so much to support me through the year. Well this year they had rather more time to catch that glimpse than in previous years – still recovering from my foot injury meant I had to take the event rather more easier than I would have wished – and I ended up taking a little under 3 hours to completer the course!

One of the reasons for my 'touch off world record pace' time became apparent the day after when the foot injury that had plagued me in the week leading up to Hastings returned with a vengeance – wiping out another flippin' week of training.

Never mind, I thought, I'd soon be back.

Wrong!! A snuffly nose, a a sore throat, aching limbs. Yep – my annual dose of lurgy arrived bang on cue. Actually I started having an urge to have an illogical argument, wanted to go shopping and couldn't parallel park – so I reckon I've got Bird Flu.

But whatever it is I have got, it means another week without training and my Doctor now tells me that my planned assault on the Paris Marathon is now in Jeopardy, which I can't understand because I was certain it was in Paris.

But the next few weeks do look to be crucial weeks – not only do I have Paris, but three weeks later I feature as a guest celebrity in this year's London Marathon and then shortly afterwards I travel down to Luxembourg for the Night Marathon. All sounds good – but if the body ain't working .......

And you thought the life of a elite athlete was a bed of violets!!

But never let it be said that this kiddie hasn't got bottle.

Like Barrack Osama says “I'll be Back!”.

Keep on tapering.

Ron.

The lion is stirring once again

Well, I've had five weeks warm weather training - I stayed in and ate pies - I've decided that a thaw is on its way.

More to the point, I've just realised that I'm six weeks away from the first of two spring marathons.

So, this week I've been out on two exhausting, lung-bursting and extremely testing training runs. two miles on each day was as good as I reckon I needed to claw my way back into the UK rankings and get this bally 2012 Olympic Marathon Gold Medal chase back on track.

OK, I underestimated the task in hand and over estimated the amount of latent fitness slumbering in my body. I'm still of a certain size and shape - still getting that bilyp noise when I run.

But, hey, don't knock it. I need to get myself back on track - so just you watch me go!!

I'll show all you doubters that I can do what I say I can do. But remember that these things are not done overnight - its a long term project and I'll need every bit of that time.

Never doubt me Ronnettes - your man is very firmly on track.

Let's rock and roll as Nicholas Wychell would say.

Keep on tapering.

Ron