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.