Happy New Year Ronnettes

Well, well what a time of year it is.

The Half Share said that today should be a day of reflection so I stood in front of the mirror for ten minutes this afternoon - God knows what she was on about. Christmas in the Ron household was what you would expect from an elite athletes training camp - plenty of tubes, a Fray Bentos pie-fest on Boxing Day and two tins of Newberry Jelly Fruits.

Bliss.

I managed to get out for a little run on Boxing Day when I went out with the Old People of Hastings for a 4 or 5 mile cross country jaunt. Very pleasant and, without sounding patronising, it's always good to see old people and poor people enjoying themsleves - and if my presence improved their lot for just one hour over what must have been a hard Christmas for them then I feel satisfied. I've done my bit, if you like.

I start my elite athlete training for the London Marathon this weekend and it will need to be head down and focus for the first three months of the new year. And talking of New Year I know what a lot of you are thinking ... you're wondering what my New Year Revolutions are going to be aren't you? Well, Ronettes, here they are - my New Year Revolutions for 2011:

1. Ditch steak and kidney pies in 2011. They are no good for me, they make me pile on the pounds and they are very unhealthy. From now on its meat and potato.

2. Try to be a bit more patient with my fans - so long as they dont take up any more of my time.

3. I thought I might do a bit of charitable work or perhaps spend time with neglected and under-priveleged kids. That sounds like my kids - so I'll go and see them one day.

4. Start drinking Bacardi - it will provide work for poor people in Bacardi land.

5. Stop eating cheese - its cruel and the hens dont like it.

6. Try to hone my three pack body

7. To be more sensitive about the Half Share's feelings - particularly when she tries to cook.

See - I told you I still had the common touch!

Anyway, I must sort out my New Year programme now. I'll be the official celebrity starter at the Kent Christmas Cracker on Sunday and then I have my first competitive outing on the 16th with the Plumpton Classic.

So, to parrot phrase Val Doonican "Happy New Year".

Keep on tapering

Ron

Mint Spy success

I was due to make a well-overdue personal appearance in Swanley on Sunday. The 4.2 mile Swanley Christmas Caper is one of my many annual trips to Caravan County and my Ronettes certainly look forward to my visit.

Unfortunately they are not made of stern stuff in Swanley and they only went and cancelled the bally thing - they reckon it was cold! Harumph I thought I've not kept my Saturday night tube consumption down to a reasonable level to then not go and run. So, we packed our pumps and hi vis balaclavas, climbed aboard Ernie's Transit, chucked the Half Share in the back with a card table and a deck chair so that she could rustle up some sarnies and set off for Peacehaven. The locals were due to hold their annual Mint Spy 10 Mile Race and I thought it would be a useful run out for me.

Well apart from the fact it was very hilly, very cold and very, well, Peacehaven-ish, I did OK. A time of 1.50.28 put me just in the top 300 - and there wasn't a Kenyan in site.

It was a useful run though just to see if the old pins were still up for a stiff one - that's what the Half Share kept muttering anyway. And it was a useful sign of for me as a competitor before Christmas is upon us. I am the guest celebrity starter at two Christmas events this weekend - in Battle for the Christmas Pudding Dash on Saturday and then in Deal for the Kent Christmas Cracker on Sunday.

If you're around for either of them, feel free to throw a tube at the old man eh?

But its a busy old time for an Olympian at this time of year with sponsors engagements and my commitments to various Ronettes - well I'm on the lash with Ernie next Tuesday. Then it will be Christmas - a time of good cheer and presents for me.

I will try and get more Indialand adventures on here before Christmas - but if you don't hear from me its not because I don't care about you or, indeed, have great man-like affection for you. Its because I'll be in the pub.

As Nicholas Wychell would say - "Have a good un me old Chinese"

Keep on tapering

Ron

My first Nash

I was invited to a Nash yesterday.

Mud, more mud, beer and lots of people shouting.

I enjoyed it very much.

Keep on tapering

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Stage 3 The Everest Challenge Marathon

Today was going to be a big day. Not only was it my third day of the Himalaya 100 Mile Race; not only was it the eighth marathon of my glorious career; not only would we, at last, be going down to below the 'altitude' level of 6,000 ft - today was the day I'd be able to have a poo.

Now I'm sorry if that offends or lowers the tone of your morning, but, although it is a tattoo subject, it is a subject that occupied my thoughts for quite a bit of my time spent at the top of the mountain. I've already mentioned that the facilities were quite basic, well they were even more basicer when it came to the toilet department. Now, OK, they had a loo. And it was fine if you wanted a number 1 ... but this kiddy has standards when it comes to the old number twos - and I stand for nobody. A hole in the ground with footprints to stand in is something that I will simply not engage with. I leave that kind of primitive behaviour and third world toilet standards to the one country that steadfastly refuses to come out of the dark ages - France. So, I was a little surprised that Indialand still had these kind of facilities - there are thousands of them in Paris and other small places in France - but lets just leave them there eh?

Anyway, that was my motivation for getting down the mountain today - I would at last be able to sit down and mind my own business. The other thing I was dreaming of was a drink - not a tube of Carling or anything like that - but just a cold drink that was anything but water. For three days now all I had drunk was water and to be honest I was beginning to get sick of the taste of the stuff - and I craved a coke or an orange juice.

You see what altitude does to us elite athletes?

So it was up again at 4.30 for the big day. The Everprest Challenge Marathon. Now most of you will know that a standard marathon distance is 26.2 miles. Well not in this part of the world it ain't!! Nobody really knows the true distance of this race but it is believed to be between 28 and 33 miles!

The route takes in 10 of the first 20 miles of yesterday's Stage 2 before returning for six miles and then beginning a descent from 12,000 ft to around 6,000 ft. A four or five mile stretch along the river to Rimbik takes us to the Lodge which would be our base for the next two nights.

There were quite a few nervous people lining up at the tape today. An old man called Albert kept forgetting where he was; my friend from Bracknell just kept looking at his friend Georgio with that strange way he had of moving his eyebrows; the Argentinians were still insufferable; and a nice lady called Jo gave me a sweetie and a 'good luck' flick of the ear - which I could have done without to be honest.

As we started the day's Stage at 7 am, this kiddie wasn't feeling too bright and I found it difficult to run any of the straight or downhill bits at the beginning of the race. So, at about five past seven I realised that today was going to be a long and difficult day for me. I was certainly going to be walking a great deal, if not all, of the course.

I struggled over the first ten miles - the last mile up to the summit at Mohle, in particular, was another punishing incline that reduced me to 20 or 30 steps at a time before stopping for breath. Once I reached the turnaround and the start of the reverse journey I was feeling wrecked.

One or two of you may know that I overcome great adversity to become an Olympic elite athlete and the Good Lord chucks a number of spanners in my saddlebag to try and make things just a tad more difficult. One of these is my health. I am a diuretic which means I have to watch my blood sugar levels - particularly when I'm winning races. I tend to control the bulk of my conditions by diet - and, depending on how my sugar levels are, will regulate my pies, kebabs and tubes accordingly. In addition to a cocktail of drugs (not one of them performance enhancing I should add) I also carry glucose with me - so if I do feel a bit Gordon Brown I can give myself a quick fix.

Well half way back along the ridge to the 16 mile point I suddenly realised that despite putting one foot in front of the other I was actually moving sideways and not forwards. Being quick thinking I soon realised that this would not help my progress towards the finish line. I then began to feel very, very dizzy. What was happening? What was happening? I'll tell you what was happening, I was only having a diuretic emo that's all! My body was crying out for sugar - well, actually it was crying out to sit down in an easy chair with a pie and a beer, but you get my draft. What was I to do?

Well, its at times like this that the true athlete emerges. I thought to myself "Now, what would Nicholas Wychell do?" So,I stopped and I stuffed a couple of glucose tablets down my neck.

Nothing.

The mountain started to sway on front of me and I started to illuminate. I thought I saw Fabio Capello in front of me but it was just a tree with a funny shape. I then thought I saw Dawn French staring at me - but it was just a passing pair of Yaks.

As I continued to feel the south side of peculiar, a knight in shining armbands came to my rescue ... only an upstanding member of the Indian Army that's all! The young chap had seen me obviously in some distress and approached me and said "Sir, you are staggering". "Well, I said, you're a bit of a looker yourself sunshine but now's not the time or the place". Anyway, to cut a long story in the bush he grabbed hold of my arm and escorted me to the side of the track and told me to sit down. Which I promptly did. On his bloody gun!!! How embarrassing. So, there was a bit of nervous pulling and tugging until he'd retrieved his rifle. And, dear Ronette, that is how my Everprest Marathon came to be saved by the military! After a few minutes rest, the old glucose kicked in and I was able to shake him by the hand, he took my photograph and off I popped back on the way to a famous marathon finish.

I had a bit of a strop and a barny when I reached the aid point where the route then turned to the steep descent. The chap there asked me if I wanted a torch. I was half an inch away from decking him - but I let diplomacy get the better of me and restricted myself to a playful kick on his shin - but I grabbed the torch anyway. And my was I glad I did!!

The descent was only supposed to be about 5 miles - well I don't know how far it really was but it took me nigh on four hours to do it!

On the way down I'd met up with a couple of local scallies who offered to accompany me. I lost them after about an hour when - wait for this - they started following a trail of pea pods. I kid you not - apparently peas are the most expensive vegetable in these parts so they cleared off and ended up with a rucksack full of the things. In the meantime a couple of marshals clapped on to me and said they'd walk with me to the finish - and to be honest Ronnettes, I needed them. By 4 o'clock I was still only half way down the mountain and it was starting to get dark. By 5 o'clock I was trying to scramble down the Himalayas in the pitch black dark with nothing but a handy little torch I got free with 4 gallons of four star!

The descent became quite scary with creatures dropping from the jungle vegetation, strange animal noises and that whistling noise you hear on Daktari. And, of course, whilst all this commotion was going on I was supposed to be in the middle of a chuffing marathon-ish! In the end there was nothing to do but to get my head down and grit my teeth and, in the words of Moira Stewart "Carry on".

Once we reached the end of the descent we came alongside the river and followed it by the glow of our torches, eventually reaching the village of Srikola. I then did something I have never done in a race before - I stopped in a cafe for a cup of tea!! I mean it wasn't an ordinary cafe - it was a Sherpa cafe run by a nice Nippall-ese family; and it was no ordinary cup of tea - it was special tea! Well, at least it tasted special to me and I walloped a potful of the stuff down, together with a packet of biscuits. After half an hour I felt good enough not just to carry on - but strangely enough I felt good enough to run! So, we began the last four or five miles to the finish line - again, in complete darkness. I eventually ran across the finish line to be greeted by the Half Share and a couple of other competitors. I'd done it. I'd finished. And I did it in 13 hours 31 minutes.

Now put that in your bucket and smoke it Haille!!

The Half Share had had problems of her own on the descent. Her and her friend Jo had come across an even older man than Albert called Peter who was in obvious distress and the two women people managed to help the old man down - now how's that for being a Good Salamander?

But she'd done something even better than that for me - she had waiting for me, at the finish line, a bottle of coca cola and I have to say drinking that was one of the satisfying moments of my time in Indialand. An hour later, with a couple of tubes and a curry down my neck I was ready once more to face the challenge of this magnificent race.

Tomorrow would be a relatively easy day - the half marathon - and a golden opportunity for me to win my first stage.

Can you wait?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

London Marathon place confirmed

Just shows to go you see.

I kinow plenty of ordinary people tried to enter the London Marathon but - without trying to sound Pompey - these lemming-like rushes into mass particiaption events are not for this kiddie.

Either the event wants me or it doesnt.

Thankfully the bloke who organises the London Marathon has seen sense and I got my formal VIP invite through on Friday evening.

Its not just the taking part that makes sense though. It offers the opportunity for countless thousands of people to have a quick peep at their favourite Olympian in the flesh.

Now, how mouthwatering a prospect is that?

Now then, Haille. What costume will you be wearing?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Stage 2 Sandakphu to Mohle - some photos

Oh, all right then.

Here's some photos of that flippin' mountain.

Keep on tapering

Ron

Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Stage 2 Sandakphu to Mohle

I have had some bad night's kips I can tell you - but none of them come close to spending a night on top of a big hill in Indialand.

Sandakphu is just the top of a mountain. That's all. There's a collection of Sherpa huts - though how they get a white van up there heaven only knows - and that's about it. I mean, OK, so you can see four of the five highest peaks in the world, including Mount Everprest. But what use is that when there's no gift shop or cafe eh? Not even one of those telescopes that you can stand on and see the sea with.

These Sherpa huts and I had made our acquaintance the last time I visited and so, in a way, I was prepared for the next couple of days and two nights that we would spend there. But nothing can prepare you for the bally cold in the place! My God did the old aluminium plummet in the thermometer. After the journey up the hill in hot weather the cold forces a real sharp intake of breath. After climbing into my sleeping bag I really struggled to get any heat into my body. Of course, bang on cue, the Half Share chose this particular time to start being awkward and refused to let me borrow her sleeping bag to get me warm - and I thought girls were supposed to be warm blooded!

As the temperature slid below zero I tried to ignore my burning legs and my too-active brain and get some kind of rest. I always feel that way after a race - and usually struggle to sleep on Sunday nights for that reason. But add to it my altitude problems and it proved nigh on impossible to sleep, though I suppose I must have had a couple of hours here and there. It made it worse because we were sent to bed at about 7 o'clock - partly because they switch off the generator that works the lights, partly because its too cold to do anything else and partly, frankly, because there's beggar all to do anyway when it goes dark. Once my friend from Bracknell had sloped off early with Georgio - apparently Georgio's zip had stuck in his sleeping bag and he couldn't get his inner blanket out and my friend from Bracknell said he would pull Georgio's zip down and whip it out for him. So that left us with nobody to talk to. The Half Share had got friendly with another old woman but she went off to bed too.

However, we were woken at just gone midnight with a heck of a racket going on outside the hut door - but that was just the Irish girls running up and down the corridor sliding on their knees.

Then the Sherpa men came to wake us up at 4.30 - yes, 4.30!!. Apparently it was to see if we wanted to watch the sun rise. I gave the smallest Sherpa man a clip round the earhole and told him in no uncertain terms that he wouldn't see anything else rise, ever, if he tried that little trick on me again. But he said we were woken up because, apparently, there was going to be a spectacular view of Mount Everprest. Well, big deal! Number one, Sunshine, I said to him, I've seen it before. Number 2, pal, I said to him, I also saw it once in a film with Alec Guinness. And number 3 - just what is the big deal anyway - I've seen Ditchling Beacon?

So, I have to say, my superstar's Olympic halo was slipping somewhat when I gathered with the rest of the rather sorry, bedraggled looking group that gathered outside the huts. Did they look 'up' for today's' out and back 20 miler? Well most of them were just wandering round, kicking rocks and smoking their first fag of the day. One of the Nice Work group called John from Essex had won yesterday's first stage. Actually, when I say 'won' he obviously knew that I was pacing myself and I did remind him that that fact alone would probably take some of the emulsion off his so called 'victory'. But I dont bear grudges and I decided to pass on a few tips on technique and running style to him - which I think he appreciated.

One problem I was having was the altitude. Although I was taking medication I was really struggling with my breathing and it was also affecting my chest, I felt sick and I had a pounding headache. Indeed, between you, me and the wheelbarrow I really didn't feel well at all. A number of others in the group were also suffering with a couple of the girls having to be placed on drips by the race doctor. One poor young Irish girl really should have stayed in bed and not attempted the stage today - but she showed grit and determination - plus being a woman ignored any advice anyway. The Half Share said she felt OK - but she's always showing off like that.

The Argentinians meanwhile were still suffering from attitude sickness.

Anyway off we set off on the second stage. The course today saw us gradually descend from 12,000 ft to about 8,000 ft - then back up - then down, then up to 10,000 ft. And that was just the outward 10 Miles! I then had to come back and do it in reverse but I was really pleased with my time of 7 hours and 1 minute. The strange was that 7 hours felt OK for me - whereas if I'd taken that time for a race back home I'd have been disappointed as well as dead on my feet. This stage racing was getting to be a specialism of mine already!!

Along the way today we had been treated to more views of this flippin' Everprest mountain - and I'll be honest, it's not like its anything special is it? The foreign people seemed to think it was though and there were stacks of photos being taken. I much prefer West Hill in Hastings, to be honest, so I did what all seasoned athletes do - I focused on my race and making sure I finished in front of a woman I'd taken a dislike to.

The surface today was a little better than Day 1, though there were still plenty of cobbled stretches to contend with. Quiet a bit of the course though was on trails and tracks - many of which, though, were rutted deeply. Some of the descents were very painful - one in particular was so steep that I spent the rest of the way out worrying about having to climb the thing on the way home. Any stretch of flat or gentle downhill though was a blessed relief for my poor legs.

Quite a bit of today's route would have been runable if it wasn't for the fact that my legs were still shot to bits from day 1 - but the killer part of the course was the last three or four miles back to Sandakphu which just seemed to be one uphill stretch after another - so it was, with some relief, that I ran across the tape to tumultuous applause from the odd runner or fifty who had finished ahead of me. I then waited for an hour so for an old man called Albert to catch me up.

I was still in 'save my legs' mode so was quite content to be eight or nine hours behind the leaders. The winner of today's stage was a Spanish man - well he thinks he's good, but I'd take him on in the Lewes 10 any day!.

After a bit of tea I went back to my hut to try and prepare for tomorrow's big test - the Everpest Challenge Marathon.

My Friend from Bracknell was also on his way back to his hut with his friend Georgio. I think they both have caught some altitude-related illness because they kept looking at each other and doing things with their eyebrows.

Very off putting if you ask me.

The big question was - would I get more than a couple of hours kip tonight? Would I be able to sleep with my legs burning? I dunno - but I was in bed by 6 o'clock to find out!

Tomorrow was going to be a momentous day - and it was important I was prepared for it.

Keep on tapering.

Ron