Bibbetty Bobbetty Boo

You see, you lot just don't understand the pain and suffering us Olympic Hopefuls (I hate that word - it sounds so defeatist - but I can't say Olympic Cert can I? Yup, I can) have to go through.

I'm just back from a short training run - 18 flippin' miles!!

That's right 18 miles. I can't move a muscle and I hurt all over. So, why do I do it?

Let me tell you why I do it.

I do it for you. Not for me. But for you and the rest of my fellow countrymen. You see, I remember the pride I felt when I saw Sally Gunnell win Gold all those years ago. The pride I felt when I watched Seb and that scruffy one battling it out for 800 and 1500 metres Olympic glory. I felt pride when the French Triple Jumper fouled on all of his attempts. So, I want you to feel that same pride when I turn that corner in the Mall and sprint over the line in 2012. I want you to share the moment when that Gold Medal is placed around my neck (incidentally, memo to Olympic organisers - forget those flippin' flowers. They make hardened athletes look like wussies and they only bin them when the cameras have gone). So, that's why I turned out for an 18 miler today.

It was a bit of a milestone run for me actually. You see I'm a bit of a traditionalist when I run - none of these fancy gadgets for me. But I was persuaded by the Half Share in the House to try running with one of those IMacpodmp3 things today.

Never again.

First of all, the flippin' ear plug things wouldn't stay in my ears - so I had to run in a chuffin' hat. And the only hat I could find was The Droog's Barbie Girl pink bobble hat. Secondly I made the mistake of asking the Cash Drainers to put some decent music on. Big mistake.

So, I set off and on comes the noise. And when I say noise I mean noise. Some band called Mucus played their greatest hits and that set me off trying to run to keep time with a drummer out of his pea brain on cocaine - so by the time I reached Mile 3 I was shattered. Eventually some proper quality music came on and I was jogging along to some Gerry & the Pacemakers and Lonnie Donnegan. However the whole thing went south when I approached a particularly steep hill at Mile 6. Hoping for some inspiring music to get me up the hill, I ramped up the volume and just as I approached the hill the track changed.

To Bibbetty Bobbetty Boo.

Yup, that's right. Our youngest, The Sod, had only loaded a load of his kids stuff on and there was I trying to run a hill to the rhythm of some spell from Disney's Cinderella!

It got worse.

I had to endure themes from The Simpsons, The Birdie Song, The JCB Song and countless other kiddie songs. But the ultimate insult happened at a hill close to the finish around 17 miles into the run. Just when I needed the inspiration, the motivation and the get up and go - what came on?

Only the bloody theme from Tellytubbies.

So that ‘whoosh’ you heard was the IMacpodmp3 being ditched in a hedge.

Getting ready now for my first International run of the year on Sunday. I'm off to Bruges to take part in their 10 Mile Ostend to Bruges race. And, in talking to the Race Numptie yesterday I was delighted that my appearance has boosted the entry to well over 1350 runners. Of course, one of the downsides of running in Belgium is that it does tend to attract some of those pesky French types. Not that I've anything against them (OK, I lie) - but they're just so flippin' competitive. Even at the southern end of the field they just can't go out and enjoy a nice run - they have to finish in front of you.

Reminds me of a little race I did in France a couple of years ago. I was, not to put too fine a point on it, struggling. In fact I was last. But I was hard on the heels of this French chappie. To my utter horror he then started to abuse me "Hee haaw, hee haw - aren't you embarrassed by being the last person in the race?" he shouted. Well I ignored the abuse but pointed out that he wasn't exactly going to trouble the engraver with his run "But at least I have somebody behind me" he said.

"Not now you haven't" I said.

And I retired from the race.

Keep on tapering.


Ron

All right, all right – I know ….

I know I should have let you know I was all right – but, the bottom line is, dear reader, well, to be honest, I’ve been in a spot of bother.

I’m afraid my quest for Olympic Gold in 2012 has slipped by the wayside a tad over the last four weeks – but I can assure you my silence has been for very good reasons.

For a start there was two weeks of Christmas. I have to say that it was all going swimmingly well until the Half Share in the House decided to pick a fight and start counting the Christmas coppers - after we’d already spent them. It was Christmas Eve and I’d just popped another Leffe, grabbed a tube of Pringles and was about to settle down to watch Men and Motors when she started to quiz me about our spend on booze for the festive period. Then she threw in that old chestnut about athletes and alcohol and, well, before you knew it Christmas was heading south and I was on the one way Strasse to Wrongdom.

What made it worse was not so much that she worked out I’d spent £248.50 on Leffe in December – but my counter-argument that she’d spent roughly the same amount on perfumes, flippin’ bubble baths, haircuts and all the rest of the beauty palaver that currently carpets half the bedroom floor and bathroom cabinets. She claimed that she had to spend that much on beauty stuff to make herself attractive to me. Fine. But, dear God, you should have heard the racket when I put forward a similar principle - that I drank so much Leffe to try and make herself look attractive too. The racket was such that it stopped next door watching Countdown and out they came suspecting murder had been committed.

They weren’t far wrong.

Suffice to say that I didn’t spend an awful lot of time round the Ron house over Christmas. But that said I had an agreeable sort of few days with my mate Ernie. I did pop in – obviously – on Christmas morning to wish the family Bon Noel. And to fetch my bottle opener. But apart from that it was a strange sort of Christmas for this kiddie.

But, of course, true love runs deep and all that. And it didn’t take her long to come round to my way of thinking and I eventually moved back into Hill Towers on New Years Eve. Just as well really – Ernie only stocks Carling and he was running a bit low.

Anyway. to tell you the truth I’ve been on best behaviour this year and having kind of messed up my end of year preparations I started 2007 with a real determination to sort out my body and get myself back on track for 2012.

First though it was the weigh-in. So, on January 1st I sunk my last Leffe around lunchtime, trotted off to the footie, snaffled a couple of Pukka Pies – and returned home to find the scales on the front door step.

Now I don’t know about you but I like to prepare for a weigh-in and, well, without getting too graphic, I like to try and lighten my load as much as I can before I stand to be weighed. But there was no chance here as the Half Share had whipped off my Duffel Coat and thrust me on the scales and, before I could say Paula Radcliffe, I was watching the dial enter uncharted territory. I think the medical experts have a word for my condition. I think it’s called Round. Because that’s what I’d become. A Blob. A Mass. In fact a round, blobby mass.

Modesty forbids me from actually spelling out in English money just what I did weigh on that fateful New Years Day. Suffice to say my target weight loss for my first marathon of the year in April – is 28lbs!! That’s right I’ve got to shift that wheelbarrow load of blobness before I can even begin my first proper tilt at my chosen Olympic distance.

How am I going to do that?

Well let me tell you.

With the same grit, determination and dedication that brought me all my athletic glories in 2006 – that’s how. This kiddie is nothing if not determined.

So the regime has started. And I’m pleased to report that I’ve shed 11 of those 28 pounds already. Friday’s weigh-in saw another 3 pounds heading south and I’ve a target loss of a further 2 pounds before this weekend’s weigh-in.

My marathon training meanwhile is – well, let’s just say I've found it difficult! However I did enjoy a tough 7 mile training run on Sunday and entered this week full of confidence – until I was struck down my some lurgy yesterday. As a result my next venture out won’t be until tomorrow when a little 6 miler is on the cards.

I’ve also drawn up my racing schedule for my pre-London Marathon programme. To be honest this is always a tricky one because naturally I’m asked to appear in so many different events that I get spoilt for choice. Obviously a lot of these running clubs can make a good few extra quid when the entry is boosted by the appearance of Yours Truly. So I do try and spread myself around a little and try to reach as many different outposts of my fan base as I can. I even go to Essex sometimes.

But just to prove what a decent chap I am I’ve even decided to make a couple of appearances in Kent and so watch out you Ronners in Caravan County as I make a guest appearance at this Sunday’s Dartford 10 Mile event. I have a soft spot for Dartford – they always put on good events and it’s the home of one of my favourite girlie runners. I’ll spare her any embarrassment by revealing her true name. So lets call her Cara - cos that’s her name anyway.

The Half Share and I first bumped into Cara the night before a prestige piddling 10K event in Nice, in the south of France a couple of years ago. I was injured and being one of those accompanying spouses set about knocking back the stuff in the optics behind the bar. Going great. Except this girl, a county athlete no less, kept up with me – drink for drink! Then at 3 o’clock in the morning she decided to start smoking and I think the evening – or morning - was finished off with a kebab. Well, come the following day the Half Share and Cara lined up for the start of the race whilst I lined up behind dark glasses and another Kronenburg. My missus lasted 200 yards before emptying up over the sea wall and into the Mediterranean. Not Cara though. What a girl – only legged it to complete a 34 minute 10K!

What a girl!

So, its Dartford this week then back to Caravan County for another 10 miler in Canterbury the week after before hitting Essex for the Great Bentley half marathon on February 4th.

Short term targets for your man here are to get round the first couple of 10 milers in as close to 95 minutes as I can – and then have bash at reaching that sub 2 hour mark for my half marathon in February. That lines me up pretty nicely for an attack on some times in February and March. I’ve earmarked a couple of events that I want to do well in. On March 3rd I’m in Belgium for the Ostend to Bruges 10 miler and I’m looking at sub 90 minutes for that one. And I’d like to do well in our local half marathon in Hastings the week after.

But I’ll keep you up to speed with my progress. In the meantime I should be back with you on a regular basis.

Especially now that I’ve got my front door key back.

I’ll also let share with you over the next couple of weeks the correspondence I’ve had with the Olympic people and my place in the Elite training squad.

Keep on tapering.

Ron.