Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Stage 1 Manybejang to Sandahkphu

This was it - the start of my second great adventure in Indialand. I was woken up at 4 by the Half Share who, I have to say, looked a bit worse for wear. Apparently it had taken her until gone midnight to pack my bags for the week's trip - but as I politely pointed out, if she managed her time a bit better she could have had both our bags packed in good time and still managed to grab more than a couple of hours kip. I mean it wasn't as though she had much ironing to do is it?

Anyway we made our way gingerly to the bus - though, it has to be said, not quite as gingerly as my friend from Bracknell who was walking very gingerly indeed. In fact he seemed to be walking the same way and wearing the same pained expression as his new friend Georgio. As we stood there with no sign of dawn breaking, the cool, peaceful mountain air was shattered with the morning greetings from the man from Austria - what a racket. He whispered louder than we all shouted!

After a breakfast in a cardboard box we boarded our buses to take us to the village of Manybejang - and the start of the Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race. When we arrived the local wigbigs had turned out to greet me and they'd very kindly laid on some musical entertainment which, although I was trying not to be a pre-maradonna, I had to ask them to can it. Frankly it wasn't so much a band as a bunch of locals banging tin cans and I can well understand how the Queen must feel when she visits those backward countries like France and Australia and Canada and has to watch blokes with paint on their faces and spears doing some ancient war dance. To be honest there's no place for it in the modern world - France, I mean.




Anyway, I'm drafting.

I lined up at the start and at 7 am the race got underway to a huge cheer and another bottom noise from my friend from Bracknell and we began the first day's stage. Today was going to be a little difficult. Not only did we have to climb from 6,000 ft to the summit at Sandahkphu - an increase in altitude from 6,000 to 12,000 ft; the distance we'd have to travel was a tad in the region of 24 miles - uphill. Now we're not just talking of any old hill here - it's steeper than Ludley Hill out there.
Within minutes of starting the race and with me comfortably placed to wup the backsides of the field, it was down to a walk. Not quite a stroll but a walk nevertheless. The thin air even at 6,000 ft didn't bode well for the rest of the day but we set about attacking the course with some gusto.

Progress was quite slow as the switchback road varied between steep and bally steep but it wasn't long before we'd made half decent progress and the field became well spread out. I could hear the strained breathing of the Austrian man because he was only 2 miles in front of me and it quickly dawned on me that what was going to win me this race was not a nippy day 1 - but a consistent pace over five days.

That's why I let everybody else stay in front of me.

We passed by lots of nice places on our way up the mountain. The route we were following is the border road between Indialand and Nipall and is guarded by lots of soldier men with guns. I found their presence to be reassuring - especially as there were snakes in the area. The road itself was one built by somebody called the Aga Khan - well he didn't actually build it but his loyal subjects built it for him. He wanted a road built so he could reach the summit at Sandakphu and see four of the five highest mountains in the world. And apparently it took them 16 years to build the road - upon which the bloke said he didn't want to go any more! So he never went up the thing - and some people reckon I'm awkward.
The views as we made our way were quite spectacular with tea plantations, small, humble little mountain settlements and lots of kids who had obviously heard of me. It was such a joy to see them rush to the side of the road and shout my name "Ron" they shouted. "Ron, Ron, faster. Ron". Little cuties, I thought.

As the day progressed the temperatures remained quite warm but as we made our way up towards the summit and as darkness began to set in (yes, I know I set off at 7 o'clock - so what exactly is your point??) it started to get very chilly. More to the point our progress slowed quite considerably as the effort of climbing over such a long distance began to take its toll. It wasn't long before we were in pitch darkness and we were having to make our way up the remaining few hundred yards in pitch black. The muscles in my legs were burning, my lungs were struggling to get enough air and the sheer effort needed to take just a few steps was overwhelming.
Indeed, at around the 18 mile mark I decided to try and set myself distance goals before stopping for a rest. Initially I would try to walk 100 yards or so before stopping for breath but as we climbed ever higher it became impossible to maintain even this slow progress. My target distance dropped down to target numbers of steps - which also decreased considerably until, within just a couple of hundred yards from the finish I was reduced to walking just 10 steps before having to stop. As a result the last kilogram took me well over an hour to complete.

Another hindrance was the road surface which had deteriorated from tarmac through to hard track and then just gave up any attempt at pretending to be a road and merely consisted of loads of rocks laid in a straight line. The locals reckon it was cobbled - but let me tell you this. If the bloke who cobbled this road tried to ply his wares in Accrington he'd have been lynched.

Eventually though I heard the welcome murmur of friendly voices. They sounded excited as they waited in anticipation for the arrival of their hero. And as I turned the last corner there, in my torch light, I picked out their happy cheering faces - all pleased to greet me like the long lost Olympian I nearly was. I threw myself over the line and raised my hand in ... well, whatever the opposite to victory is .. and asked the Half Share to go and put the kettle on.

I'd finished Day 1 of the race in 10 hours 45 minutes - only six or seven hours behind the leaders. But I'd soon make that up through the week! There was time for a quick bit of supper before slumping, exhausted into my little wooden hut. It was so cold and I was so tired - but, hey, I'm an Olympian and it was time to step up to the plate.

Tomorrow would be a stroll in the park compared to today but I could smell victory and I vowed to look for the plate in my rucksack.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - the importance of camaraderie

I'm quite a perceptive superstar sometimes. And I was percepting quite a few things whilst enjoying my great sub continental adventure. What intrigued me whilst studying the people who made up this merry band of international athletes was how their relationship with each other developed as the days progressed.

There was obviously a bit of awe in the air when I walked in the room - indeed I heard lots of people saying 'awe' when I walked past them. But I was intrigued to see how the different groups of people started to jelly together. They would be looking to each other for lots of help and support over the coming few days and it was important that the whole group of 60-odd athletes got on well right away - which is one of the reasons I declined a VIP room. Running 100 miles is no walk in the park and it needs talent, mental strength, endurance, a decent pair of pumps - and teamwork. So, as the hours progressed towards the start of the race many of my fellow athletes began developing pretty close relationships with potential running partners.

One of our group was a man who I felt a bit sorry for because he lived near Bracknell. Other than that he was nice. He was obviously a little nervous about the race because he kept making small bottom noises every time we mentioned the task ahead. I was beginning to feel a little concerned about him so I was delighted for him when he found himself a little soul mate. He had teamed up with Georgio more or less as soon as we'd landed in Bagdogra in one of those 'eyes meeting across a crowded room' type scenarios. Within a few hours this nice Englishman and the little Italian man with a funny walk appeared inseparable.

They were told off on the first night for running up and down the corridors but once it was lights out, they ambled off in the gloom and I overheard Georgio invite him to his room. I think Georgio was an author or something because I heard him ask my friend if he wanted to go to his room to look at his back catalogue.

In any event it was good to see my friend looking after his new Italian buddy in such a touching way.

Bless.

Keep on tapering

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Day 5 - sussing the opposition

We were up at 5 this morning for a day that Ernie had marked as important in my diary. Unofficially it was to be a 'meet and greet' day for me to be introduced to some of the foreign people in this part of the world. As well as eyeballing my opponents in the race I also had to set aside a bit of time in my busy diary to pump the knuckles a bit and say 'Bonsoir' to some of the nice locals who had bowled up to see me. And whilst all this PR stuff is a bit of a bind at times you have to remember that its not every day of the week that the people in this farest flungest part of the world get to see me. Besides I think it adds to my global appeal to be seen in the company of ordinary people.

And, lets not forget that the rest of the people who would be following in my wake this week were also pretty ordinary as well. So were the people on my bus. Don't get me wrong I'm not a snob - hey, I was once so poor I had to knock back the Sky subscription, so don't talk to me about being humble.


But I digrate. I admit to being a touch hacked off about a lack of VIP transport - again - but I resolved to grin and wear it. That said if they were going to make me travel on a bus they could have at least sat me in Business Class.


We went to a place called Darjeeling which I'd been to before. It used to be owned by the British and you can still see evidence of British ownership - workmen standing leaning on shovels, men in uniform being awkward etc etc. In a moment of deep thought I wonder what it must have been like in the days when the sun never shone on the pink bits of the map. I pictured myself in a pith helmet riding an elephant through the streets of this fine city and thought how cool would it be to be Tarzan? Then I realised I was hallucinating on Diamox altitude tablets and so I went for a tube and a curry.


We then had a little wander around the town, visiting the Himalaya Mountaineering Museum and it still had some of that stuff belonging to that bloke who climbed Everest. From there we went to the Himalaya Zoo and we saw tigers and other fierce looking animals. There was this huge bear-like creature with a hideous face and piercing cry - but on looking closer I saw that it was the Austrian bloke again.


Now I'm a seasoned traveller as you know - I've been to Indialand and to Africa and to Bracknell - so I've had to put up with a fair bit in my life as a globetrotting Olympian. But around mid-afternoon I started to feel a little peculiar - a condition that steadily worsened as we made the long, slow journey back to Lake Mirik. I've already mentioned that I was on medication to combat altitude sickness - these were forced upon me by Dr Moustache and were taken on top of my existing medication. So, God knows what this lot were doing to my body. I had explained to the good Doctor that I was well prepared for altitude having had three months sleeping upstairs at home. But anyway, these flippin' tablets would appear to have given me .... yep, you guessed it. Altitude sickness!! So, I was put to my bed having not so much a dose of Delhi Belly, more a case of Darjeeling Feeling.


I thought a bit of rest would do me the world of good. But I'd reckoned without the physical intervention of Moustache. What did he do? Well, quite frankly, he just pummeled me and hurt me. First of all he squoze my fingers in that gap between my thumb and my nose picking finger - and he squoze til I had to scream. Then he lay me on my stomach and ... wait for it ... stood on my ankles!! Then he pushed his hands into my stomach until I cried out again. Finally he sat there for five minutes stroking my ear lobe. Now that's where I got a little bit shirty with Dr M and I told him in no uncertain terms to jack it in. He insisted he knew what was best for me - and he also told me that I was poorly cos I was sterssed. Well who the pug wouldn't be stressed when you had some Indianese man stroking your ear and standing on your ankles??


Anyway his ear stroking came to a sudden halt when I playfully kicked him repeatedly on the ankles - despite me telling him it would help him to relax.

But you'll never guess what. Within an hour I felt as right as snow and so, feeling a little better about tomorrow's race I decided to take an early beer-less night and hit the sack.


I bumped into the sodding Argentines on the way to my room and they were still shouting some kind of political slogans and generally making a bally nuisance of themselves - so I suggested they go and see Dr Moustache for some attitude pills. They didn't seem to see the funny side of this and I have to admit trhere was a bit of a skirmish in which an Argentinian flag was slightly soiled but after a bit of hair and shirt straightening and a few deep breaths we all agreed it was probably about time we all fought on the same side.


And screwed the French.

As I turned in, the Austrian guy shouted goodnight - he was still in Darjeeling mind you, but I could still hear him. Then I drifted off to sleep dreaming about tomorrow's victory and that 24 mile uphill stage to Sandakphu.



Or so I thought.

At midnight there was a hammering on the door of our room. There, in the moonlight, I made out the shapes of a number of military types, complete with guns - and they were shouting all kinds of stuff at me. I thought to myself "Now what would Kate Adie do?" and then proceeded to adopt the British attitude and slammed the door in their faces. Turns out that the old man called Albert had only gone and broken into the room of the local head of military security! And he'd got into their room by using his own key in their lock and pushing the door open. Now that tells you more about the state of their security rather than Albert's nous let me tell you.

See you tomorrow.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

I know, I know!!

Finding the time to tell you all about my fantastic achievements in Indialand is proving a little difficult at the mo - but fear not Ronnettes I have not forgotten. I hope to have the next thrilling instalment here within the next 24 hours.

A few thousand of you have been worried in case something had happened to me - but as Ken Dodd would say "No - I'm fine".

My time in Indialand has been time well spent though - just wait whilst you hear how I've been doing on my own doorstop. Last week I was the Chief Celebrity Elite Athlete at the Poppy Half Marathon in Bexhill. This race is staged in Bexhill to give the people there something to look at in the winter. This year though - my did it rain. It wasn't just raining Cats and Horses, it was freezing cold as well. But I don't let a bit of weather come between me and a BP - I stormed round the course in 2 hours 8 minutes and a few seconds to record my fastest half marathon time since March 2007. Impressive Mange Tout?

I am also keeping up my gruelling training regime and last week maintained my focus on building up my strength, concentrating on speed work, warming up properly, cooling down, stretching and eating less kebabs. Well on Sunday it was quite a big day for me as I popped down to the City of Filth and Needles for the Brighton 10K. Organised by people who are obviously still learning how to organise booze-ups in breweries the race was a bit of a shambles with no water and a few other basics missing. However ... my time was a stunning 56.06 and I haven't run that quick since February 2007. So, at the moment I'm running like the ... like ... well like a man who runs. I'm coming into form at just the right time too.

In fact I don't mind admitting that as I crossed the line to huge applause from the strange people of Brighton, I couldn't help breaking into a bit of a smile. Then a little bit of wee came out so I had to dash away quickly. But the large crowd acknowledged what was a fabulous run for me.

Coming up soon I'm at the Crowborough 10K next week and then popping up to Caravan County to be the elite athlete at the Swanley Christmas Caper. I'll also be the guest celebrity starter at a couple of Christmas events.

Life is good when you're a top athlete eh?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Day 4 - Back to the mountains

Another day dawning in Indialand and another day of adulation ahead of me.

It was another crazy journey back to the airport where we were due to set off for our flight to Bagdogra and where I would meet up once again with my friends in the Himalayas.

Well Ronettes I have to admit that I nearly let my guard slip at the airport. I was just a few kilograms away from throwing what would have been my first superstar’s fit of the trip. The old soaks who run Nice Work has tried their best to look after me but, to be frank, they’re OK at looking after ordinary people and women but when it comes to Olympic elite athletes they are somewhat lacking.

So when we arrived at the airport yet again I was forced to queue up with normal people – no VIP lounge or entrance. Then the queues just went on for ages and I’m afraid I got so frustrated I announced that I was about to throw a paddy. At which one of my new Irish friends Mary insisted that if I was throwing a paddy it wasn’t going to be her – I didn’t understand what she meant. But I quickly pulled myself together by reminding myself “Now what would Barry Manilow do in this situation?’

To be honest the Irish girls were set to become a problem for yours truly. I could tell they all had their cute little green Irish eyes on me – but I was determined to hold my dignity. I’d made my mind up that I was going to mentor them – and be their father figure. And that was that. Mind you if I’d been their father I’d have still been bathing one or two of them – but that’s another story!

As we stood in one of the many endless queues I could sense that one or two of my opponents were exuding what can only be described as jealousy, Not just the fact that I was going to win the race – but that I was getting so much attention from the girl people in our group. But, hey, that’s just what comes with the territory when you are an elite athlete.

Three of the blokes in particular were obviously a little twitchy. There was a chap from Essex – but apart from that he was OK. And then there was a bloke from Reading – a place very close to my wallet. And then another chap from Ashford who kept trying to outstare me – I could tell he was using psychological techniques to try and unsettle me. So I decided to fight fire with stones and stared at him back. Then very slowly I raised my right hand and pointed at him with my big finger – and then I hiccuped and kind of ruined the moment. But he certainly got the message – you don’t mess with this kiddie.

Of course, the Half Share was with me on this trip and I also had to have a little word with her about moaning just because she has to carry my bags. I also took the opportunity to give her a little pep talk and reminded her that I had no intention of hanging around at the top/bottom of mountains waiting for her. The last time I starred in the Himalayas I spent just a little bit too much time waiting for her to finish and I was in no mood for that this year.

We landed at Bagdogra and bumped into a few old mates from last time and we boarded the bone shaker to our base hotel in Lake Mirik - about 6,000 ft in the mountains. Upon arrival I met up with Himalya Charlie again and he gave me one of those embarrassing man hug things which I'm not that comfortable with actually. He didnt seem as happy as I thought he would to see me but that old cheeky grin came back as I gently teased him about the old Empire days and told him to fetch me a tube. He jokingly tapped my arm a bit and then I nudged him playfully in the chest as he tapped my ankles with his stick - and it was all getting a bit tetchy as I playfully flicked his ear and he knocked my cap off and one or two observers thought it was getting a bit serious. But we both put our arms around each other and I thought he was enjoying our little tussle until he kneed me in the balls.

There was only time for a couple of tubes of Gherkin beer before lights out ... and my, oh my, what a night. The night didnt auger well when I heard this German bloke whispering something - and he was in another room at the time! This chap muttered louder than normal people bellow - so we had to put up with his garrumping voice and singing until he'd finally worn himself out and fallen asleep. I think he was some kind of shouting champion so I made a mental note to deck him in the morning. In the meantime the only thing I could do was to turn up the volume on my Imac player and let him have double bubble of Vera Lynn doing proper war songs. The problem was that the war songs woke up the three Argentinians who were just way too nationalistic for my liking. They eventually quietened down when I powdered them with two barrels - Number 1, the Falklands and Number 2 a little ditty I'd learned about that Madonna football man.

I dont know why the Germans and Argies just dont show a bit more tolerance towards foreign people. If there's one thing I can't stand its flippin' foreigners being xenophobic - well that's why they're foreign and I'm not I suppose.

Anyway all in all I think I made a half decent impression on most of the foreign people. I settled down for my first night in the mountains and began to dream once again of victory.

You could smell it in the air, you know. Well, that and curry.

Tomorrow I was off to Darjeeling for a cup of tea. Will tell you all about it.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Day 3 - Saying 'hello' to Delhi

Our first full day back in Indialand and I was beginning to feel at home amongst my furthest flungest fans. And what a start to the day it was - curry and chips for breakfast!! I had a couple of portions and then snaffled some toast and honey to make it look healthier and then got myself ready for a day saying Buenos Aires to my new and old friends in Asia.

Of course when I'm travelling abroad I take my responsibilities seriously. Its important that we don't make foreign people think they are more inferior than they already are so I always try to assume a kind of diplomatic stance. I always offer to sign autographs before I'm asked and I'll usually throw out some chocolates or crisps to the locals - as a kind of bridge building gift. It usually works well for me anyway.

I'd had a word with my friends - they don't like being called agents - in Indialand and they had arranged for me to do a tour of the city. I kind of viewed it as a pre-race victory parade and as I am a champion I decided that it would be appropriate to dress as a champion. It had to be the lime green Lycra!

Well there was obviously some kind of mix-up with the transport arrangements. You see I thought I was being paraded through the streets on an open top bus but when the thing arrived it had a bally roof on - so how were the ordinary people in the streets going to see me? Its just not the same waving through a window whilst sat with a load of other people. So I don't mind saying I was feeling a bit rankled before the day even got going. Things took a turn for the worse when the bus parade turned into what I can only describe as a sightseeing tour - I mean what on earth was happening? The bus tour was not for me to see Indialand - it was for Indialand to see me!

We visited a place called a mosk - which I wasn't too sure about. My feeling of slight unease took a turn south when the bloke at the gate asked me to wear a dress. I agreed to do so to ensure there wasn't a diplomatic incident but I confess Ronettes - it didn't feel right. One or two of the girls with us complained that they couldn't get into their dresses but the Very Old Man with us was kind enough to offer to get into their dresses for them if they were struggling.

We then went to a place called the Red Fort which I'd seen before. Its a fort that is red.



Word of my arrival soon spread round the city though and it wasn't long before I had a kind of mini retinue of locals following me round asking me to sign their postcards, sign their camera batteries and sign their trinkets.
And so the day progressed - we saw a few more sights, had a curry and then went out in the evening for a few tubes at a place called Pebbledash Street - don't even go there Ronnettes.

Evening was quite relaxed and I spent the time weighing up once again some of my opponents. What was I to make of them? Whilst I've mentioned that one or two of them looked a bit past it, a couple of them did look handy and if you ignored their hang dog looks you'd think I was in the company of other athletes. There were even some women with us which I thought would come in handy if my Green Flashes needed a whitening. Some of them were from a town called Ireland which is near Liverpool and I have to say I had some trouble understanding them - they had funny accents. It was quite humbling to see them in awe of me. I explained to them that the race we were about to do wasn't like their little runs they do with their jackets tied round their waists - they wouldn't be able to do that girly thingy running action - in short, I emphasised that they would be racing against real runners. But, you know, I am an old softy at heart and I could tell by the looks in their eyes that deep down they were just little girls a long, long way from their ironing boards and hoovers. I resolved there and then that I would help them. And that's how it was that I became the mentor to seven young Irish gals (well, they weren't all young actually, but lets not split ends).

Another lady there was called Joe and she was a good bloke and never failed to join me in a beer or two when the occasion demanded.

And then, of course, I had the Half Share there - so at the very least I'd have no problems getting my Lycra ironed.

Our day ended as it began then with a decent curry - and I went to bed eager with anticipation about the following day's flight to the north of the country - and back to those mountains that I was going to conquer once again.

Keep on tapering

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - arrival in Delhi

Well the good staff on board the Gulf Air flight to Bar Mein looked after yours truly fairly adequately and a few tubes, a curry and a decent kip later we landed in this strange place. Now I have never been to this place before and, to be honest, from the aeroplane it didn't look promising. It looked like a slightly larger version of Morecambe Sands but with no sign of the tide. Arriving in the early hours of the morning we made for a sorry looking group. The dried spittle and curry stains were bad enough but the whiff of stale drink made sure that nobody was under misapprehension - we were there as proud ambassadors of our country!

Because I was on my holidays I set off to check out the bar ... well that was fruitless. Not a tube to be seen anywhere. But I spotted a MacDonald's so resigned myself to a Chicken sausage butty. After a sniff around the place I did a bit of shopping using some kind of money called a dinner - how bizarre was that? My MacDonald's cost me half a dinner - which I thought was apt.

A few hours later we were up in the air again and after another curry and a tube or two we were approaching Delhi. Some of our group got a bit over excited and got told off by the air hostesses for running up and down the aisle sliding on their knees - especially a Very Old Man called Albert who really should have known better at his age.

Anyway before you could say Tickly Masala we were landing in New Delhi and I had arrived - my long awaited return to Indialand was under way! After a brief three hour wait at Passport Control I began to rue my decision to travel as part of a group like an ordinary person. You see there are times when we Olympians just need a bit of space - like on buses and planes. Anyhow after a while we were through the formalities and onto the streets of New Delhi. I've said before that if this is New Delhi I'd hate to see Old Delhi - and once again the place didnt disappoint.


Driving is a real experience. You don't see many modern cars in the city - you certainly don't see any BMWs because most people in this country don't have small willies. But my oh my the driving. We all know that in some countries you drive on the left - and in others you drive on the right. Well in Indialand they drive on both - at the same time!!


An hour later we checked into our hotel and seeing as somebody had pinched some of my day - I could have sworn it was still morning but it seemed to be night time - we headed off into town for a bit of a bun fight.


Unfortunately, once again, I had to travel with the rest of the Nice Work group - I politely declined the offer of a VIP stretch rickshaw by playfully decking the hotel manager.

The journey over to Indialand had given me an opportunity to size up some of my opponents in this International Race of Elite Athletes. Most of them seemed quite old and, to be honest, I discounted them as bonio fido opponents. Some of them might have been able to keep up with me in parts of the race so I practised going up to them and then turning my backs on them - just so they could get used to the sight of my back.

But I knew it wasn't only going to be about competing with these people as athletes - some of them were women - so I decided to welcome them into my Inner Sanctum and try to treat them as normally as I could. In fact, between you and I Ronnettes, I began to feel quite humble about the whole thing. Here were these people - some of them obviously hadn't had a decent meal in months - but they had scrimped and saved to be with me on this important part of my Olympic journey.

Bless.

But it kind of worked me pretending to be approachable because by the end of this first night I felt almost the same as them - ordinary. That said I knew I would have to retain a certain aloofness - after all one doesn't rise to Olympic Super Stardom by mixing with riff raff. But I decided to treat them all as equals - so long as they only spoke to me one at a time.

A very pleasant evening though and we ended up me inviting them to my VIP area in the hotel where we shared a beer and I told them all about my rise to fame and current race strategy.


Tomorrow I would be going on a city tour to say 'Hi' to all my Indialand supporters - a kind of pre-victory parade if you like.

I bet Indialand, its people and my new running friends couldn't wait!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Day 1 - to the airport!!

Well, the life of an international, Olympic gold medalist is no walk in the garden I can tell you!

No sooner had I arrived back from a magnificent Amsterdam Marathon than it was time to dust down the duffle bag, apply whitener to my green flash pumps, find my shell suit - and away we go again! I had had quite a good time in Amsterdam but there are times when the smell of victory, the medals, the adulation and the fan-dom all pale into insignificance and irrelevance. And its occasions like this when I thank the Great God above (or Seb as I like to call him) for my family. Not so much the Cash Drainers because they always seem to be hanging around when there's prize money to be divvied up. But her. The Half Share. Its not often that she gets the thanks she deserves and, I suppose, if I'm honest, there are times when I know I just couldn't manage without her.

So was I glad that she was around when I got back from Amsterdam. Otherwise I would never have had clean clothes for my trip to Indialand - and Ernie and I would not have had any packed lunch for the journey. So, I'd like to publicly thank her here and now for most of the things she does for me (by the way dear - not too struck on Marmite and Spring Onion filling so perhaps a little bit more thought next time eh?)

Anyway, from somewhere my kitbag appeared and I was ready to board the Transit and the first leg of my journey to London Airport to meet up with the people who were about to become not just fellow athletes but almost family for the next two weeks or so. Ernie had buffed up his Transit for the journey and kindly brought along a few tubes and a couple of Ginsters for the journey and after packing the Half Share and the luggage in the back we set off.

We were travelling to Indialand with Nice Work so we knew there would be a pervading whiff of kebab and stale Carlsberg for the next 12 or 13 days. But when we met up with our fellow athletes I have to admit to a little surprise. With one or two notable exceptions most of them were unlikely to see 50 again and I mused to myself that if it wasn't for me what a dearth of young British athletic talent there was.

I decided that the occasion needed an ice breaker so I immediately decided to launch into my famous Ron Warm-Up routine and as I performed my anal crunches and pelvic squirts I could tell by their little faces that they were impressed. Actually, that's probably not quite true - more like scared. Because I think it was only then that it hit them - they were in the company of a true athlete.

I left them to mull upon what I'd shown them and retired to the bar to stock up on a couple of Guinnesses and after a little argy bargy with the airline security - when are they going to sort out my VIP pass eh? - I settled into my seat aboard a Gulf Air flight on its way to Bar Mein and waited for my first curry.



It was going to be a long two weeks and there were going to be an awful lot of curries between now and the end of the trip.

Best if I start to acclimatise right away I thought. A chicken tikka and four or five beers later and I was in the Land of Nid. A restful night ahead of me.

I'll bring news of the rest of my journey tomorrow,

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Well, another successful international triumph!

Well, Ronettes, I'm back safe and sound from the farest, flungest point of the Empire after a victorious return to Indialand for the Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race.

Did I win it? Did I create any new world records? Did I cement international relations between our country and our friends in India?

Well, to quote Dame Judy Trench - 'you'll have to hang on a mo'.

One thing at a time - and first, unpack and wash out the bally smell of masala!!

Be in touch very shortly with news of my intrepid epic-ing.

Keep on tapering

Ron