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