Dover bottles out!!

Just when I had primed myself, what happens? Dover only goes and wimps out of the challenge!

That's right the pesky blighters have cancelled tomorrow morning's Half Marathon because of the snow. I'd really set myself and psyched myself up for my first stab at the distance for some considerable time - but it's not to be. So, in the words of that bloke who reads the news on the telly - "You'll just have to find something else matey".

Instead of running the half marathon I'm having a Leffe beer instead and just contemplating what might have happened if it hadn't been for the weather. In fact it got me thinking about weather and the kind of weather I like.

Although this kiddie does appreciate the sun on his back - I do sometimes find the sun to be a bit like a nosey neighbour. It bursts into your day - whether you like it or not. I mean you can't decline the sun if you don't want it can you? It's just there! It gets in your eyes, it gets on your skin. In fact it just gets everywhere.

Not like drizzle.

If the sun is the Home Counties of the weather world - the soft southern meteorological softie, if you like, then drizzle is your northern equivalent. Drizzle isn't intrusive. It doesnt ask for permission to drizzle. It doesnt announce itself with a geat fanfare like thunder or lightning does. It just gets on with what it wants to do - and does so without fuss or theatre.

Drizzle - for northern blokes who cant be fashed with worrying about weather.

Anyway, I'm rambling. I did do a little 4 miler this morning - and talking of weather it was perishing cold, I can tell you. Tomorrow me and the Half Share are walking round Britain. A little 14 mile walk/run from Dungeness to Hythe will do me the world of good in my Olympic preparation programme.

Talking of which, us Olympians are not at all impressed with those blokes going down a hill on sledges and tea trays and calling it an Olympic Games. As my mate Ernie often says "If God had meant us to ski he'd have made our feet a yard long".

I mean if they just want to jump on the bandwagon and have something called a Winter Olympics - what next? A Spring Olympics with bulb planting, lawn mowing and frisbee chucking?

Do me a favour.

Anyway, I've a Leffe to get on with here.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Rain. Sleet. Wind. Hail. And Hills. Marvelous

You know, when I grow up I'm going to be a weather forecaster.

Those of you who checked my notes last week will know that I confidently predicted that the weather on Sunday in the south east of England would be cold, miserable and wet.

Well, I was right.

A bit.

It was more than that. It was chuffing cold, chuffing miserable and chuffing wet I’ll tell you!

Each time I've ventured into Caravan County and wandered down to Dover for their half marathon, I've ended up soaked and frozen to the bone. And it was no different on Sunday. A light drizzle and cold wind just before the start gave way to torrential rain, hailstone and sleet - and then we had a gale blowing in from the channel. Which is all very well - but then I had to run up hills as well.

But this kiddie is nothing if not resilient and I fought my way through the field to finish underneath my target time of 2.05 - but agonisingly short of another sub 2 hour jobbie. Which would have been a marvellous performance on this course in these conditions. In fact I managed 2 hours and 48 seconds which, considering it took me almost 30 seconds to cross the start line was a performance that will have had the Ethiopians and Kenyans dobbing themselves. And do you know, just to make it worse - not one of them showed up to test themselves against me or the elements. And that just proves my point that some of these elite athletes have grown just a tad too big for their spikes.

Sure, we can all do these luxury, big ticket events - your New Yorks, Paris and London events. But it's in the dark waters of southern England where men are men and boys are left behind the bushes. And that's why this kiddie here will always be there at these marvellous events. Not only is it great for the soul - its good too to let your public see you.

To be fair there weren't many of my public out watching Sunday's race - and even if there had been I wasn't getting out of the Allegro until I absolutely had to. Nope, Sunday was one of those days when the warm-up was an extra notch on the car heater.

But after Dover, I do feel that I'm getting my stamina and strength together OK. The old war wound of an injury is being nursed by my medical team and, apart from a couple of twinges here and there it seems to be standing up to scrutiny.

Having told you about my magnificent pre-race diet of beans I must admit to trying something else last weekend. A Dupiazza on Friday evening, accompanied by a couple of Leffes, was followed by a Saturday evening supper of Steak and Kidney Pudding. But don't go thinking for a minute that my standards are slipping - it was just a bit of an awkward weekend for sticking to the rabbit food - and you can rest assured that the old regime will be followed closely this week.

Well apart from a couple of days when I pop off to Brussels.

Anyway, training-wise, I've a light session tomorrow followed by a gigantic leap of faith - I've got to get a 16 mile run under my belt and that will probably have to be on Friday. Can't wait!

And then this weekend I'm back to Caravan County for a bash at one of those piddling 10Ks in Ashford.

So, I’ll be back later in the week to let you know how I get on – and I’ll let you have a butchers at the correspondence with Max Clifford and Sue Barker at Question of Sport.

Till then, enjoy the weather.

Keep on tapering.


Ron

Another week gone, another milestone reached

As we reach the end of our sixth week in 2007 it is quite frightening what us athletes have to put our bodies through. Normal people and women have no idea what a gruelling life we lead. My punishing schedule of fitness training, diet, early nights and some pretty intense psychological sessions would leave their mark on a mere mortal - never mind this elite athlete's body.

Until now I've made it to the ranks of Superstar athlete and media personality by using my own unique training methods - but the progress I've made since Jan 1, using some rather unconventional methods it has to be said, is quite startling. Which just goes to show that you must always be open to ideas from others.

You know I think I've just been too comfortable with my pie and Leffe diet. But since trying this new fangled low-fat, low carb, low protein, low taste, no alcohol, no sweeties just plenty of exercise programme ... guess what? I've lost almost 16 pounds.

That's a pair of twins!

So, now that I'm not running with a wheelbarrow of blobness around my middle I've suddenly discovered a frightening burst of speed which, I tell you what - it must have those old Frenchies and Ethiopians dobbing in their EU subsidies!

But am I complacent?

Not on your Nellie! This kiddie's nothing if not dedicated to the cause. And that cause, need I remind you, is a commitment not just to beat those Frenchies - but to rub their gallic noses in it! So, I'm continuing with the training and diet thing through the rest of this month and next at least. I've decided I've got to fill that wheelbarrow up with a few more pounds of blob - and I've a target of sending another pound a week south right up to my first marathon of the year - that's London on April 22nd. At the moment, I'm something stone 12 lbs - so I'll be something stone 9lbs before the end of Feb; something stone 5lbs by the end of March - and something stone 2lbs come Marathon time. At that point I'll have dropped almost 2 stone - and if that ain't dedication to the cause I don't know what is.

I've a return to Caravan County this weekend when me and the Sod, my youngest, brave the elements for a stab at the Dover Half Marathon - the Sod's taking part in the youngster's run. His training regime of Playstation, Tomb Raider, Tizer, Penny Sweets and crisps should see him through that one! And if you're out and about on Sunday, I can confidently predict the weather. It will be cold and wet and chuffing miserable. How do I know? Simple. It is always cold, wet and miserable for this race. Target-wise I'm still bathing in the euphoria of last weekend's sub 2 hour half. Logic tells me that I should be able to repeat that effort on Sunday - but Dover's not a flat course by any means and I think, twixt you and I, I'll struggle to do so. So, I'm playing safe and aiming for a 2-05 jobbie but if I get sub 2 hour I'll kiss the mother-in-law.

As for the rest of the month, its back to Kent next week for a piddling 10K in Ashford and then the week after I'll be visiting Livingstone's Pit for a return to the Roding Valley Half Marathon.

Away from my punishing Elite Atlete's Training Schedule (EATS) I've a big problem ahead next week - I visit my spiritual home of Belgium on Tuesday and Wednesday for a two day visit to Brussels - and I've a feeling the training might just head south for a couple of days. Certainly this kiddie ain't taking the Belgian Strasse without checking up on me old mucker Leffe - and, of course, travelling Elite Athlete's Class on the Eurostar means a freebie decent full English breakfast!!

I am expecting some progress on improving my media profile next week and you'll not be surprised to know that I'm recruiting the best possible team around me to help mould your man here into a smoothie media personality. I've just fired off a letter to Max Clifford confirming his appointment as my media adviser - I'll stick a copy of my appointment letter here shortly. And, between you and I, I've some exciting news about my TV profile. I think I'm a midge's away from being appointed a captain on Question of Sport now that that Scottish drunk has left to concentrate on losing football matches with his national team. Obviously it's not confirmed yet - but when you see the application I've fired off to Sue Barker you'll be as impressed as I think she'll be.

Well, that's it for now - take it easy with chickens, turkeys and budgies till that Bernard Matthews thing blows over.

Keep on tapering.



Ron