Half and Half

Phew!

That's all I can say.

Phew!

Been a bit of a week and a half of it over the last two weeks. And its given me time to practice my new pre-Olympic strategy. I've decided that with all the modern technology now available it is likely that I'm being spied upon by my opponents in the Marathon in 2012.

Now, I've always proudly carried the 'Deceptively slow' label and so, I've decided to fool everybody and lull them into a false sense of security. You see I reckon it makes sense to pretend that I'm not actually as good as I really am. That way the opponents slow up - and then when it matters I can just leave them standing knowing full well that they will have taken their foot off the electric during their training.

I have used the strategy to good effect over the last two Sundays.

Last Sunday I ran with a lot of old people in the Hastings Half Marathon and just missed out on a podium place. My time of 2.28.58 was good enough to beat the dolphin and some blokes oulling some beer barrels so I have to be pleased with my performance.

Yesterday I popped along to Maidstone in Caravan County for something called the A20 Pathway 13/21 race. I opted for the 13 mile race and zipped round in a rather impressive 2 hours 35 minutes which was good enough to make most of the 21 mile competitors eat my exhaust fumes. Of course one or two were whinging that they'd covered more distance than I had, but as I've said many times before - whose fault is that?

And, in any event, isn't it first past the post that counts? You don't get Paul Radcliffe and those Kenyan men moaning that they should win because they ran a bit further in the New York marathon do you? So, until the day they award the winner's prize to a bloke who doesnt come first over the line, in my mind I beat those other people fair and square.

Right - has that little bone of contention been put to bed?

Its Easter this week and I'll be taking a couple of days R 'n' R with Ernie to sample a tube or two. I'm also going to Folkestone on Friday to win the Folkestone 10. Other than that it will be an easy week on the training front - my legs are a bit sore from three weeks on the bounce covering 13 miles.

So, in the words of Elaine Page "I'm having a blow".

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Poor me

I've woke up this morning and I'm in a bit of a state.

I've caught Kennel Cough off our dog Mandelson and under normal circumstances I think I'd have turned over in bed and waited for my fry-up to arrive. But its the Hastings Half Marathon this morning and I know that they have had a substantial boost in entries due to my appearance.

So, I cant let down all those people can I? Its times like this when Olympians come to the fore. So, its chest out, adopt my British Poodle Spirit and just try to think what Keith Chegwin would do if faced with the same problem.

I'll be there Ronettes, don't worry.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

That Belgium experience

I'm still seething about my aborted trip to Belgiumland last weekend to take part in the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race.

You see, the deal was quite straightforward. As a celebrity Olympian the soaks at Nice Work asked to me to join them. Well I thought that's what they'd said but the old phone line was a bit crackly. I don't normally deal with the mucky side of my Olympic quest and I leave all discussions about sponsorship and endorsements to Ernie. But as Ernie was away on a Plumbers convention I took the call myself.

Well I'm sure the bloke asked me to come along to do a spot of coaching. Well that's right up my street I thought and I began looking forward to putting some of the old crocks masquerading as runners through their paces. Imagine my horror when I turn up at Ashford and the bloke chucks me a set of keys, points out where the indicators are and promptly jumps in the back and settles down with a brown ale and a Ginsters.

Coaching? I was driving the bally bus!!

Anyway through a mix of luck and good judgement I got the 1956 Bedford Tourer to a spot that looked vaguely like Belgium, parked the thing up and went straight for the chips and Leffe. We had a pleasant enough evening mixing with my friends and supporters over there. I think they particularly liked the new musical routine I've invented - I've put one of my pelvic squirt routines to music. It went OK - but I did get the feeling that not many of the Frenchies had heard of either Rolf Harris or The Court of King Caractacus - but never mind. And the table was old and nearly broken anyway!

Switch now dear Reader to the morning after the night before - and to where things started to tip the weekend downhill. I have to say that I was feeling on tip top form and after I'd got a couple of the runners to give us a push start I got the Bedford down to the start line, parked up and got stripped off ready for the race.

And then some clever clogs Charlie pointed out that there was a bally puncture on the bus!! Well, I wasn't too chuffed but I thought it would get us home - I mean there was six wheels on the flippin' bus and I reckoned four - one for each corner - plus one spare was quite enough thank you. But no - they started shouting Health and Safety stuff at me. The bottom line was that matey boy here had to pull the old Hi-Vis on over my lycra and wait for the flippin' RAC or whatever they're called in Belgiumland.

And as well as standing around waiting for the bloke to come out and fix it, I missed the race. All that way and all I had to show for it was a fading hangover and a foreign Hi-Vis.

A sore experience and believe me did I tear a strip off Ernie when I got back. Well fair's fair - I need him to sort out the commercial part of my sporting superstar career leaving me to free to focus on what I'm good at.

Winning medals for England.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Stumbling in the dark

So, your man here enjoyed a weekend of international sport in two of the country's leading centres of sporting excellence.

Reading and Lydd.

On Saturday I joined the eldest Cash Drainer Haille Minogue in a place called Reading which apparently is in a small place called Berks. And all I can say is .... well how appropriate. its full of Berks! Reading is the kind of place your Great Grandparents used to aspire to live in when they were tied to the local cotton mill. Its got lots of concrete, lots of students, lots of pubs and not a lot of character.

Our Haille went there on one of these exchange schemes - we got an ironing board and a new pelmet for the kitchen which the Half Share and I thought was quite good value. But apparently when she reaches an IQ of 50 we have to bring her home. I mean she's not blonde thick - but you wouldn't want her to breed.

So, I felt perfectly at home there. I was there as the Guest celebrity at a 5 mile race to help raise money for some dodgy student cause. I've never understood why students have felt the need to fundraise - I mean they do so well scrounging of us and the State anyway - so why not just cadge a bit more? In any event they probably stuff all the money they do raise on drugs, alcohol and strange magazines.

I tried to adapt to the local way of life - you know, the hung shoulders, the baseball cap back to front and the body with a six pack (mine's just missing the little plastic thing to hold it together). And then we started the race and I twaddled round the first of the two laps just to show a bit of willing before retiring to the bar and a welcome glass of Guinness.

On Sunday we went back to Caravan County to take a look at the Lydd Half Marathon. And if you haven't been to Lydd .... well its the kind of place people from Reading would go to on holiday. They'd certainly feel at home. The Lydd Half Marathon attracted a fair few athletes of varying degrees of ability - but none of them could hold a candle to an Olympian - so I didn't bother running the bally thing.

But ever conscious of the need to up my mileage and my competition - I haven't competed in a race since November - the Half Share and I have entered the Hastings Half Marathon on Sunday. Now Hastings ain't too bad - its a town that was built specifically for fat people to wear sporting clothing. Not to run in, you understand. Just to hang around outside MacDonald's smoking fags. In fact there are more tracksuits stood outside the local fast food outlets than in the chuffing Olympic Village.

But the event ain't too bad - but I am nervous about my stamina and if I'm going to make those Kenyanites eat my dust I needed to get some miles under my pumps. So we went to Hastings on Monday.

And ran home.

Now the theory was fine. A nice Spring day. The evenings getting lighter. Now that's all well and done but the Half Share obviously miscalculated because as we started the 13 mile run back to Ron Towers, the sun was already dipping over the fumes on the horizon. By Mile 3 it was dusk. And by Mile 6 .. pitch flippin' black.

So we ended up running along country lanes with no bally idea of which way the road went - and the whole 13 mile shebang took us 2 hours 45 minutes. It would have taken me a few minutes less but for having to extricate myself from a hedge. In a desperate attempt to escape the tyres a local hooligan farmer driving his tractor I tripped over a hedge root, fell face down in a ditch and crashed through a hawthorn hedge into a field.

Oh how the Half Share thought amusing.

Anyway I might pop out with the Old People of Hastings for a little jog tomorrow . then its down to Hastings on Sunday - I'll let you know how I get on. Podium chance? Mais Wee Senor!!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

I suppose you think that was some kind of joke eh?

So, off I set with a spring in my step, a whistle on my lips and a Leffe in my hand. Off to Belgiumland to do a spot of missionary work, a bit of Olympian gladhanding and do a spot of Leffe carbo loading.

Oh - and the little matter of the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race.

Well thank you God!! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

More to come on my weekend in Bruges - plus exclusive photos of the man himself. But suffice to say, I'd no sooner said Ola to my Belgiumland friends than it was Hasta La Vista as the Krankies used to say. I'd just got stripped down to my orange lycra and Dunlop Green Flashes ... then some clever clog discovered our bus had a puncture!

And because I'd cadged a free ride with the old soaks from Nice Work it was left to your man here to sort it out.

So whilst the rest of them were flying down the canal from Zeebrugges, this kiddie was stood freezing his championchips off, stood like a prat in my yellow Hi-Vis waiting for the Belgiumlandish equivalent of the chuffing AA. And I missed the race.

Miffed?

You bet your sweet waffle I was.

Its no way to treat an Olympian. When I've calmed down I'll bring you more information on what was an interesting couple of days away.

So, nothing can go wrong this weekend can it? Well, after a 9 miler and a 4 miler yesterday I'm gearing up for a weekend of personal appearances. Tomorrow I'm in a place called Reading with a bunch of unwashed students taking part in the St Patrick's 5 Mile Scurry. I'm only there because a) the eldest cash drainer, Haille Minogue is taking part and wanted me to take her some soap and b) there's a smell of Guinness about the place. On Sunday I'm in a place called Lydd for their Half Marathon.

What a life eh?

More news soon.

Keep on tapering.

Ron.

Water, water everywhere - and only beer to drink

Life as an Olympian can be a grind sometimes you know.

As Harry H Corbett who spent all his life with his hand up Sooty's jacksie was often heard to say "Life as an Olympian can be a grind sometimes you know".

It's now March and although my training has been going well, I've still not managed to put in a single competitive personal appearance. After the washout that was Dover, I mosied over to Wittersham - a kind of southern version of Skelmersdale - for something called the Isle of Oxney Hot Soup 5 Mile Dash. I wasn't running - I was the celebrity starter. Well you would certainly have thought you were on an island the amount of flippin' rain that came down. It was so stormy it was blowing Frenchmen across the channel. So I started the race by shouting 'Go' and beggared off to the pub. I know there's this kind of brotherhood thing about running and athletes - but I wasn't hanging around in that stuff I can tell you.

Despite the inclement weather though I have managed to keep the old training regime up to my usual high standards. I've been out with the Old People of Hastings a few times - it does cheer them up when I bowl up, you know. You see, I've always a little tale to tell, a nudge here, a whispered word of encouragement there. And I know it really does lift them to feel as though they are actually part of my Olympic journey. I've taught them my Anal Crunch and Pelvic Squirt regime though admittedly the ripped lycra episode was a little unseemly. But I could tell by the playful way they all keep flicking my ears that they have an awful ot of affection for me.

Bless their little cotton singlets.

So this weekend just gone, after upping my training to around 20 miles a week (yes, you heard me right Paul and Mr Gebrselassie (or whatever) you heard me right - that's 20 miles a week. Just think how you could do if you decided to put your little backs into it a bit more!).

Anyway, after another 20 miles plus week I decided to go up to Boris's Folly for a half marathon, dodging needles and MacDonald's boxes in Roding Valley. However my mate Ernie called his mate Alan who works at the council and basically he told me not to even bother going out of the door on Sunday. It was going to be torrential.

And so it was.

And so I did.

I stayed in. Instead I did a 10 mile jaunt from Hythe to Folkestone and return on Saturday morning to get me some practice for this coming weekend's first International appearance of the season in Belgium.

Yup I'm going back to the land of my spiritual fathers and Leffemongers. I'm off to Bruges for the annual Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race. I'm nipping off with the gin fuelled caravan organised by Nice Work. Its about my sixth time of appearing here and the Belgiumites always put on a good show for us - and I try to reciprocate by ganging up with them and the Dutch to stuff the wind up any Frenchies who happen to be running.

It's a 10 Mile Race and I'm feeling pretty confident of making the top 5 finishers. I reckon if I can dip under 1 hour 50 mins I'll be on the podium.

To help me prepare for my big weekend I shoved away half a dozen Leffe last night and, just to be on the safe side, two waffles.

I just know I'm going to be smokin'!!!

Tomorrow its a training run with the Old People of Hastings then I'll do a spot of carbo-Loading at Stavros's kebab wagon on the way home.

I can't wait.

Keep on tapering.

Ron