In the bleak midwinter

Well the clocks have moved sideways which means Midwinter will soon be upon us. And as David Dimbleby often says "When the clocks move, its time to get your backside into the groove. Man."

so Ernie and I sat down at the end of our strategic blue cheese session earlier this week to start to put together my 1000 day plan to guarantee London 2012 Olympic glory. There are, indeed, just 1000 days left before the opening of the London games and I'll be sitting down soon with my Olympic mucker Syd Coe to formulate my role in those games (apart, of course, from winning the Marathon).

Ernie and I also looked at a plan to hone my fitness and performance and as part of that he's suggesting that I have a dry November. I considered his proposal for a couple of minutes ... and, you know, Ronettes, I'm almost tempted to give it a try. But all sorts of questions go through your mind when faced with a mental idea like that. "Is Ernie off his nut?". "Will it work?". "Why?". And so on and so on.

But I'll mull on it over the weekend and see what happens.

The other thing I'm mulling over is this bally sponsorship lark. I'm having beggar-all luck in attracting the major corporates to join the Ron bandwagon. So far, I've got Sid Pilkington, our window cleaner, to give me two plastic buckets to hold my used wet towels. Not very impressive for an international athlete eh?

But I do appreciate that we're in the middle of a credit snatch so I know I need to be patient.

But Ernie has suggested that the next time I make a celebrity appearance I organise a mass warm-up exercise and take people through my Pelvic Squirt and Anal Crunch routine. It's not a bad idea though. It would be open to ordinary people and women as well as athletes - so it would also look to widen my appeal as well.

Anyway, I'll think on it.

Off to Caravan County on Sunday for the Deal 5 - should be a shoe-in for a podium finish.

Will let you know how I get on.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Sponsors needed

Right.

Just completed my strategic plan for 2010 - which will not be far away from my Winning Gold in 2012 time. So, I've decided that my orange all-in-one lycra and my Dunlop Green Flash are no longer up to it. I'm fed up of travelling to events in the back of Ernie's transit.

If I'm going to win Gold and represent this country properly I need the proper kit. So, I've had a blue cheese session with my professional advisers - well Ernie - and this is my 'must-have' list for 2012 Olympic Glory.

1. New running kit - must be capapable of holding all the right bits in and in the right direction. No more lycra - I've seen enough Police Stations this year to last me a lifetime. I'd like proper running shorts and proper running shirts - with, natch, sponsors logos emblazoned.

2. New pumps. Dont care what sort. Oh and if you could chuck in a few packets of whitener as well.

3. Drinks carrier. Enough to fit a dozen tubes of Leffe.

4. A new anorak.

5. A proper car. Anything so long as it doesnt have a coat hanger for an arial and it mustn't be French. A new van for Ernie would be a nice touch as well.

6. Hollands Pies have been a rubbish sponsor - come on Pukka Pies or Peter's Pies - what are you waiting for!!

7. An energy drink sponsor - somebody like Newcastle Brown Ale would be good.

8. A travel sponsor too - I'm getting a bit embarrased at the number of lifts I'm poncing from Nice Work. Plus, whenever I come back I always have a headache and I whiff of Pale Ale. I dont care who sponsors my travel really but it would be nice to have a prestige name like Millets or Poundland. Or even a private benefactor. As Des O'Connor used to say "Its always nice to have a rich benefcator sponsoring your travel when you're trying to secure Olympic glory for your country"

9. That racing driver chappie Jensen Buffon has a watch sponsor - so maybe somebody like Timex would fancy giving it a go? The Half Share rather cruelly jibed that I'd be better off with a calendar sponsor but I think that was just jealousy.

10. Viagra. Dunno why - that was Ernie's idea. Dunno what they make but Ernie says it stands to reason. He's lost me I'm afraid.

Anyway those are my priorities - but obviously any other stuff you want to chuck my way, I'll be proud to wear it on your behalf.

Just think you could soon be sharing my podium! And for those that say 'poo' to the idea, dont come crying to me when me and my mates from Pukka Pies are featured on the front cover of the Harlow Bugle eh?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

It’s been a bit of a summer and a half for Yours Truly.

A touch of joy here and there but also a heavy dose of disappointment too. As Jonathan Ross's brother often says though - “when the going gets tough, its time for a pie”.

I think what really bothered me was not getting selected for the GB World Championships squad – I had been training well and I'd stuck in some pretty impressive times – and, well let’s just say I think politics were responsible. How on earth these selectors can continue to ignore raw talent is beyond me. So, instead of the World’s I decided to train up for the Harvel 5 instead – and beggar them I thought, who needs Uriah Bolt anyway?

My spring had started in a fairly positive vein though. I popped down to my favouritist small European country to take part, once more, in the Luxembourg Night Run. Despite being far from fit due to an attack of … well it was Ernie's birthday that started it and I hadn’t quite dried out by the time I reached the start line. We had popped out for a beer at the end of April and just because it was May 3rd when I got back the Half Share took some sort of offence. I did eventually make it up to her – though I did have a little stutter! She asked me to buy her a present - and it wasn’t even her birthday! She asked me for something that went from 0 to 150 in three seconds.

My choice of a set of bathroom scales was probably not my best decision.
Anyway, I decided to trot round the Half Marathon and did what I thought was a pretty impressive time of 2 hours 37.31 – which was not far short of the time taken by the marathon winner – so I was satisfied with that. Next stop was Montreuil in Northern France for my annual argy bargy with the frogs. I'd love to tell you how I did in the race but a little incident with a crate of red wine means the whole bally weekend is now but a fog.

My fitness was starting to return though and I chucked in a nippy 5K at Bexhill where I destroyed a pretty handy field with a time of 31.39 which put me in great stead for my attack on the Harvel 5 in June. I threw myself round the course in a stunning 49.56 – and then my sodding knee went again!!

That was basically it for the summer.

I did venture to somewhere called the north for a 10K in Ulverston. Good God – now I understand where the expression 'Grim up north' comes from!! It was a bit of a family affair though as myself, the Half Share, the Droog, Haille Minogue and the Sod all joined me in the race. The family thought it was a great laugh to sod off and leave me to sign autographs at the start – which explained my somewhat tardy 1.08.26.

Until the weekend just gone my only other Personal Appearance this year was in September when I ventured overseas with the Old Soaks (aka Nice Work) for a bash at the Somme Marathon – although I decided to stick to what I'm superb at and focused on winning the 10K race. I worked my way through an impressive field of athletes like a wooden spoon through butter and dipped over the line in 1.09.25.
And so to now. The present.

I'm just recovering from a nasty bout of tendonitis so my fabulous time in Amsterdam at the weekend is but a small step on the big journey.

I'm up and off again this weekend but I'll have to give the racing a miss as I'm the guest celebrity starter for the Beckley 10K – but I'm hoping to nip out to Caravan County for the Deal 5 next week before more missionary work the weekend after in Richmond.

You know – I think I'm up for a biggie very shortly – and God help those Kenyans and those Tangerines when it happens.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Orange, Orange and more Orange

So, off I went to Holland at the weekend. My motives were two-fold. First of all to resume my relentless but inevitable journey towards Olympic Gold in 2012; and secondly to do, if you like, a spot of missionary work amongst some of our poorer European allies.

Holland is very orange and as a nod of the cap towards the Dutch people I decided it would be appropriate to wear my new all-in-one Orange lycra running strip.

So, off we set with the Nice Work party - and a right motley, rum sodden bunch they turned out to be! Perfect company I thought. Before landing in Holland we visited somewhere called Netherland and I trekked for ages trying to find that Martin Jackson's ranch but gave up looking. I never liked his music anyway.

Amsterdam was bustling when we got there sometime late in the afternoon and I decided a couple of tubes of the local hooch was in order. Well, that was more or less it until I started feeling a touch peckish. There was a cafe next door to the bar so I popped in for a couple of cakes and a coffee ... well goodness knows what they put in their pastries but I can tell you that I felt like I'd got banjaxed by a steam hammer!

After I'd apologised to the policeman I decided to call it a day and get some shut eye. But do you know, waking up on Sunday morning I felt a familar stirring. And despite having decided to decline the offer of a celebrity place in their Half Marathon - I just felt that I'd be letting down Queen and Country. So, to mimic the words of Bobby Davro, I decided to "Give it a Go Barney".

And my, am I glad I did.

I decided to run in the 7.5K race. And as I lined up outside the Olympic Stadium I could feel the spirits of all those Ancient Italians who are immortalised in the Olympic movement. And you know I think they were trying to tell me something. I could feel a kind of Olympic aura emanating from these ancient Olympians through this Olympic Stadium built in 1928 and then through to yours truly - and as I looked up at the glorious blue sky my thoughts turned to 2012 and my place on that Olympic podium.

Inspired? You bet your middle dollar I was.

So, I decided to treat the locals to my famous anal crunch and pelvic squirt warm-up - but, dear reader, let me advise you of one thing. Never try this famous Ron routine in skin tight Orange lycra. Apology Number 2 required to the local constabulary.

My race was a masterful display of tactics, strategy and sheer animal speed. Once again, I scythed my way through an international field of elite athletes. I finished the race in 49.26 - which wasn't quite a BP but having pipped one Kenyan to the line, how delighted was I to discover that I'd only gone and done it arund an hour quicker than the Kenyan bloke who won the marathon?

OK, maybe he did run a bit further than I did - but, hey, whose fault was that? Nobody asked him to run all that way did they?

After receiving my medal and a quick peck from the Queen or somebody we retired to the bar to celebrate.

I have to say, Ronnettes, I was chuffed to bits to pull on the vest once again - after such a lengthy absence I realised just how much I'd missed the cut and thust of international competition.

That's my lot though for foreign travel for a little while. I'm due to vist Belgium again in March and I also have races planned in Paris, which is near Franec, Luxembourg, Norway, The Somme and India amongst other places next year. Before then I do have a couple of celebrity appearances to make. I realise I have some work to do to get my fitness back on track - and I need to work hard at raising the old profile again.

I'll be in Beckley on Sunday - and I've got my Summer round up to come too. But in the words of that bloke who does the weather on BBC2 - that's the lot for tonight.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Wow! What a place that was

Just back from Amsterdam - and I certainly caused a storm there! Was it my new orange all-in-one lycra? Or was it my magnificent performance against the Kenyans?

I'll let you know shortly.

One thing is for sure though.

This kiddie is back!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Right - that's it. I've had enough

I've been sat on the sidelines for too long now. London 2012 is not far away now and if I'm to justify the tag of pre-race favourite for Olympic Marathon gold I need to get back into training - and sharpish.

The last five months havent been particularly happy for yours truly. I've had a stop-start running summer - with more stops then starts between you, me and the gatebell.

I'll update you with what's been happening a little later today, if I can. But my running experiences in France, Luxembourg, the Somme and a place in England called the North have left their mark in many ways.

I have a busy schedule of personal appearances next year with events in Belgium, France, Norway, Holland and a special return to see my colonial chums in Indialand.

This weekend I'm off to the land of cheese, clogs and foaming mouths - yep, I'm a celebrity entrant for the Amsterdam Half Marathon - but a nasty case of tendonitis has put paid to me competing. I'll still pop over there though - I'm off with my mates at Nice Work so at least I'm guaranteed a beer.

I'll let you know how I get on this weekend. But in the words of that woman who reads the news "It's great to be back".

Keep on tapering.

Ron

In search of the Sevenoaks 7

"Have you heard of the Sevenoaks 7?" says the Half Share yesterday morning.

Well I thought the Sevenoaks 7 was a murderous gang who preyed on innocent people, pummelling them into submission and leaving them for dead.

Well it isnt a bunch of blokes from Caravan County its a race in that fair county. A race up and down some stupid hills. Prey on innocent people, pummel them and leave them for dead? So, no change there then.

The Sevenoaks 7 is a silly event. It has too many hills and too many lumpy bits in the ground. And as far as I'm concerned, if you see even one of the Sevenoaks 7 - deck them.

So now you've heard it now from the zebra's mouth.

The only redeeming factor from this gruelling event was that I got a BP - yup my 1 hour 21 minute is the fastest 7 miler I've ever done - OK it might be the only one I've done, but lets not split beards eh?

Next week? Its off to do some sparring with me old muckers in France,

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Never run with children or animals

To Barkland yesterday. Eldest Cash Drainer Haille Minogue has decided that the Olympic Running miracle that simmers within my highly toned athletic frame is, somehow, a genetic phenonemon. So, not content with basking in my glory she decides that she's going to take up the sport although, obviously, being a) a kid and b) a female one, she's never going to scale the dizzy heights experienced by your man here.

However, I don't like to let the thing down, so the Half Share and I, with The Sod in tow made the long journey to a place called Reading in Barkland for a spot of missionary work.

Reading is the kind of place the newspapers write about when they want to talk about the Credit Crunch. Riding on the crest of an economic slump it is famous for having a suicide pact with Baghdad. Its poor residents shuffle aimlessly along streets lined with Chicken Shops, Kebab Take-Aways, Pubs and Curry Shops. In short, being a person from the north, its the kind of place I could quite happily settle in.

And if you'd like to know what Reading was like in the 1960's - why not pop along and visit it?

So, to the race and the locals in Barkland had their first opportunity to see at close hand the phenomenon that is me. My, how they enjoyed my famous warm-up prugramme of anal crunches and pelvic aquirts - although the Half Share did comment again that I ought to mend the rip in my orange lycra all-in-one.

Haille and her Student friend spent the pre-race period putting on make-up and generally behaving like a couple of 18 year olds - sticking their tongues out at old men, giggling at my lycra and stealing sweets from the kids etc etc. Though they did see some things they havent seen for some time - soap, morning and a smoke free environment spring to mind. But getting them to prepare themselves properly became a bit of a nightmare and after taking the fourth bottle of WKD off them I decided to lay the law down and slapped round the head with a current issue of the NME.

The race began in typical fashion for your man here. A crowded start with dozens of Ronettes all trying to get a glimpse of me made for something of a sluggish start and although I soon picked up the pace it took some scything through the field to make my mark on the leaderboard.

I eventually finished the race in just over the hour - a time considerably quicker than that Kenyan managed in the London Marathon last week or so - and hung around waiting for Half Share and Haille. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered them hanging around at the water table waiting, so they claimed, for me! Both reckoned to have finished before me!! Imagine that!

As if.

So I clocked Haille round the lug once more for telling lies and made my way to one of three pubs adjacent to the finish line - which made me muse what a way that would be to liven up the Olympic Marathon! Cross the line - me leading a couple of Kenyans and Tangerenians - and there you have it! A couple of bars, a barbecue and a kebab wagon - hey, how cool is that? Much better than having to wait for some bloke with a blazer, a stretched-faced blonde bimbo and a couple of orphans to give you your medal. And as for that effeminate bunch of flowers - no thank you!

Anyway the Olympics remain my goal - kebab wagon or not - and my training is going well. I just did a kind of homecoming 2 mile cool down along the sea front this evening. Next up on the competetion front is a little trip to one of my favourite places - Montreuil-sur-Mer in Northern France for an international race against a bunch of foreigners.

Cant wait!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Well done to the teapot

Well there was a tear in this kiddie's eye as Sammy Wanjiru won the London Marathon. Sure his victory was made all the easier due to my absence but it still took some bottle. His time of 2 hours 5 minutes was not as quick as my Hastings 5 time but it was still an impressive time. I particularly liked his teapot costume.

I'm not sure what happened to Paul Radcliffe but there was a bloke who looked just like him dressed as a fire engine - and that may have been him.

I was a little disappointed not to see my old foes the Bakewell Tarts make more of an impact but maybe my absence made them a little complacent eh?

Anyway, of more importance, my training schedule is bang on track after a swift 5 or 6 miles along the seafront - and call me smug, but my time tonight was also faster than Wanjiru on Sunday!

A couple more training sessions and I should be fit for my next personal appearance in Barkland next Monday.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Much the poorer for my absence - but Good Luck Bakewell Tarts

Its a sunny Sunday morning here in Ron Towers and as the Half Share in the House darns the holes in my new orange lycra all-in-one, my thoughts are with those taking part in today's London Marathon.

As you know, your man here did have a celebrity place in the line-up but I have to think of the long -term - do I really want to burn myself out today on a little club event in London when I have an Olympic Marathon to run in 2012?

There will be a little tear in this kiddie's eye though come 10 o'clcok-ish when my old adversaries the Bakewell Tarts line up for what will obviously be a much easier day now for them. But its not just about those Kenyan men, those astonishing Tangerinians and, of course, the Bakewell Tarts. Its about thousands of ordinary people and women lining up for what could be one of the greatest days of their life.

In the words of John Motson "Its not what you do for my country, lend me your ears". Or something like that.

So far as my training is concerned, I've not had a bad week. Less Juice More Whoosh being my slogan for this week. Only a couple of tubes, one kebab and an Indian all week. Impressive eh? On top of that I've managed to do some intensive training on five days - so I'm starting to get back into shape. My short term targets are to enjoy - if an elite athlete can really enjoy a punishing training schedule - another week's training. Next weekend sees me popping over to my spiritual French home - Le 2K - for a spot of beach work. On Monday I'm off to see the eldest, Haille Minogue, and take part in a 10K in a place called Shinfield near Reading in somewhere called Barkland or something (no, I've no idea either). It will be a nice treat for the people of Barkland to see me and I'll look forward to spreading the Ron word.

Anyway I'm off for a 5 miler before the London Marathon.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Well if that doesn't have the Kenyans dobbing themselves I don't now what will

Popped down to Hastings this morning and starred in their Hastings Runners 5 Mile Race.

I like the Hastings Runners - think it must be the alcohol that knits us together - and they usually put on a good show.

And your man here did us all proud with a blistering run. Although I'm still waiting for the results, I heard a few people comment on just how quick I looked. A tad over 50 minutes when I dipped over the line and I only saw two people ahead of me so I reckon I came third.

So, come on Kenyans, come on Tangerinians, come on Upper Voltaists - what have you got in your tank to respond to that? As the famous Newsreader Huw Edwards once said - its not how you respond to victory that counts, its .... well I can't remember, but it was good what he said.

So, it was a happy kiddie that took the plaudits, signed a few chests and made my way back to Ron Towers for an afternoon on the sofa watching the footie and sinking a few tubes. I do have a little soft spot for the red half of Manchester and so I was feeling a little miffed about the final score. I blame it on that Tevez bloke. I saw him once when I ventured to London for a spot of autograph signing - and I tell you something. There's nothing wrong with your telly - he really is that ugly.

Anyway, feeling rather chuffed with my week of Olympic training. Another solid week ahead of me with my next race a double header in Reading and Chesham on Bank Holiday Monday.

Till then Ronettes.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

I'm sorry

The time has come to apologise.

After a constant stream of inuendo, smears and briefing against my opponents, the pressure has finally got to me.

Its time to say "I'm sorry".

I'm sorry for putting all this weight on and I take full responsibility.

For the avoidance of doubt then:

"I take full responsibility for what happened. That's why the person who was responsible went immediately."

And that's why the bloke on the pie counter at Ashbees the butchers in town has been sacked.

To be honest though I am slightly miffed that another prominent personality appears to be copying my move and jumping on the Ron "I apologise" bandwagon. But, hey, that's the way the cooker rumbles.

There.

That's sorted that.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

No panic - 2012 is back on track

Well, I've just proved again that class is most deffo a permanent fixture in your man's make-up.

After admittedly weighing in a tad over the limit for a Cruiserweight Sumo Bloke I have knocked out a schedule and tonight went for a 3 mile wadddle down the Harbour. It took me about 40 minutes - so if that doesnt put the fear of God up the Kenyans I dont know what will.

2012?

Slice of gateaux Ronettes.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Parasites!!

Back to my globetrotting again last weekend and a visit to France. I was due to take part in the Paris Marathon and grabbed a freebie trip with the gin-soaked bozos that masquerade as Nice Work.

Not taking part in the Marathon was a bit of a disappointment for me but it's just another of those things that us elite athletes have to put up with. And at times like this when the old spirit starts to lag I think about how those other top runners must feel when their races go pear-shaped. Paul Radcliffe has had to put up with some major disappointments but still keeps going - bottling and surrendering in the Grease Marathon, stopping for a poo in the London Marathon - just part and parcel of life as an Olympian.

So, I just decided to crack on with life and go to Paris anyway. Well at least I thought we were going to Paris but we ended up in a place called Paree - but it was still full of French people and so I didn't make a fuss. Popping into the Expo I thought it only right to help contribute towards the intent cordial and nipped into the VIP area to offer my personal apology for the race losing one of its leading celebs.

It was here that the day started to head south down the strasse. No sooner had I got in the room and made my way towards the bar than a French bloke grabbed me, said he was the Mayor - and welcomed me to Gay Paree! And it didnt stop there - he then tried to plant a couple of smackers on my cheeks!! Well, celebrity Olympian or not, there's no way I'm suffering that badly for my art. So I decked the bloke and continued my journey to the bar thinking no more about it.

Unfortunately I didnt make it. I'd not gone 20 feet before I was manhandled back out to the exit and chucked unceremoniously into the throngs of ordinary people queuing for a free energy bar in the Expo Hall. Ernie being the good mate he is did what all good friends would do in the circumstances - continued fighting his way to the buffet and I spied him out of the corner of my eye as I was being hoyed out doing something rather uncivilised into a potted fern.



I decided to wait for Ernie in a local bar but after a couple of hours and a few tubes of the local wallop I'd convinced myself that I could restore civilised relations with the local bigwigs. I thought it would be worth trying to disguise myself as one of the leading athletes so I stripped down to my new all-in-one orange lycra running suit and managed to just get inside the tented VIP area. I'd just started my warm-up routine of anal crunches and pelvic squirts when the same bally goons spotted me. I couldnt even utter a "Buenos Aires Fraulein" before they grabbed me and after a little local difficulty with the revolving door - they were chucking me too hard and I kept ending up back at their feet - I found myself in the Glasgow position (face down in the gutter). One of the goons had managed to damage my new lycra kit and the old jacksie was hanging out the bottom of the bally thing so I had no choice but to wait bum-down in a plant pot until Ernie returned.

By now the old chap had had his fill of the freebie food and drink and he was as oiled as a Yorkshire Chip Shopkeeper by the time he collapsed at my feet. Unfortunately not for the first time I had to have a word with the bloke about his drinking. He alwsys denies he has a problem with drink - "I cant be an alcoholic" he usually claims "Because I don't do meetings" - and to be fair you cant argue with that can you?



We decided to take it easy and sat eating some of the buffet that Ernie had managed to stuff down his trousers and started to muse about the French. We do seem to end up having 'issues' with them whenever our paths cross - but then, we thought, it aint all bad news being French. True, the whole world hates you but consider these good reasons for being French:

1. If their economy is bad, they just blame the Brits. If a war is started anywhere, they just blame the Brits. If their farmers are upset, they just blame the Brits. If they lose their car keys, they just blame the Brits.
2. You dont have to learn French as a foreign language.
3. When speaking fast you can make yourself sound gay.
4. You get to eat insect food like snails and frog's legs.
5. If there's a war you finish really early.
6. You don't have to read the subtitles on those late night black and white films.
7. You can test your own nuclear weapons in other people's countries.
8. You can be ugly and still pull the birds.
9. You don't have to bother with toilets, just wee in the street.
10. Your mates dont laugh at you because your nan has a moustache.

Anyway after wrapping his pac-a-mac around my backside to hide the rips we wendled our way back to the hotel to catch up with our fellow athletes. Not finding anybody around we knocked on a couple of doors - why are people so grumpy at 2 o'clock in the morning? I went to bed convinced that their only problem was simply that they were a few drinks behind us.

Sunday morning and we made our way to what the Fench call the Marathon Start area - and what any sane person with half a brain would call a chaotic shambles masquerading as an international sporting event. I made my way down to the Elite Start to pass on my best wishes to the Kenyans but they couldnt speak much English and didnt really understand what I was saying - and I'm afraid there was another unpleasant altercation between Ernie and I, a couple of Kenyans, a Belgian with a big nose and a few of those goons we'd encountered the prevous evening.

In the end we'd had our fill of French and French authority and decided to keep a low profile for the rest of the day. We found ourselves tucked away in a small bar on the marathon route. From there we watched the 40,000 or so runners making their way towards somewhere called the Chompseleesay. Bizarrely most of the runners were Indian or Pakistani - the locals greeting them all by shouting "Ali". Such fun - an afternoon sampling the local plonk, a couple of omelettes and we were settled.

So, all in all a pleasant enough weekend and we arrived back in Blighty with a few bruises to show but convinced that we had once again very firmly put your man here back in the public domain.

On my return to Blighty I've been working hard at thinking about how to get my Olympic training schedule back into gear. My short term targets have been modified and I'm putting my London Marathon place on the back burner whilst I get myself back into some kind of fighting state.

Instead of doing the London Marathon, I'm hoping to take up an offer of a celebrity place at the Night Run in Luxembourg next month - with the possibility of a marathon run in Iceland in August. Before then I do have a return to the land of snails and garlic with my annual pilgrimage to Montreuil for the Ramparts 10K - will there by fireworks again?

Well lets see what the next couple of weeks bring first!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

The perils of being an elite athlete

Its all right for you ordinary people - and you women!!

The last six weeks have been an utter tale of woe, woe and woe again - and its at times like this that you begin to understand what it must have been like when Paul Radcliffe bottled out of the Olympic Marathon in Grease.

Six weeks ago I had it all mapped out - a few weeks back in training and the old Olympic dream was back on track again. Right? Wrong!!

Sure I managed to get my first two weeks of training in - but my attempt at putting that training to competitive use was washed out - literally - by the torrential rain we had last month. “Oh right - fair weather runner”, I hear you saying. Well yah boo sucks as Andrew Marr would say - does Haille Gabriellwotsit train in Manchester? Does Paul Radcliffe spend his winter months in Brentwood? Of course they don't - they beggar off to sunnier climes! Well what's good for the goose is good for the seagull as far as I'm concerned. So there was no way I was venturing out in sub-zero temperatures and hissing rain.

Yeah, OK then - fair weather running.

Things looked up a bit at the beginning of the month though when I accompanied the Nice Work mob on their annual junket to Bruges for the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race. Its normally a gin-fuelled weekend and this year was no exception. Meeting the rest of the party at some God unearthly hour In Ashford and the scene resembled a fire drill outside my local Lidl. However after a weekend diet of God's Own Brew, chocolate, chips and some kind of salad cream stuff and I was ready to rumble on race day.



The race was full of Belgiumites and French people but the rest of the field was OK and they looked on in obvious awe as I went through my new Credit Crunch and Pelvic Thrust Warm Up routine - a routine made all the more memorable with my new tangerine Lycra all-in-one running suit. Unfortunately I'd overdone it a bit on the old Leffe and chocolate bit the night before and the ripping noise on my third anal crunch confirmed my worst fear - there was a tad more of this kiddie showing than I would have wished.

However a tear in the backside of my shorts was not going to stop me and as I crouched at the line ready for my first competitive race of 2009 I felt a surge of confidence run through my body – and down my leg. Although I hoped it was sweat my worst fears were soon confirmed and I had to nip to the loo rather sharpish – and I had beggared up my start.

Nevertheless I soon ramped up and enjoyed the run out – I finished in an impressive 1 hour 48 minutes – and let me tell you, if that hasn't put the fear of God up the Kenyans I don't know what will!!

So, with my season under way I returned to training with the Paris Marathon firmly in my sights – and my are those Parasites in for a treat.

Or so I thought.

First of all I collected a foot injury and that put me out of training for ten days. Just got over that in time to turn up for our local shindig down in Hastings where the Half Marathon is an opportunity for many thousands of locals to catch a glimpse of me. I'm a kind of local hero in this part of Sussex and I always try and put on a show for them – its a kind of reward for all those ordinary people who do so much to support me through the year. Well this year they had rather more time to catch that glimpse than in previous years – still recovering from my foot injury meant I had to take the event rather more easier than I would have wished – and I ended up taking a little under 3 hours to completer the course!

One of the reasons for my 'touch off world record pace' time became apparent the day after when the foot injury that had plagued me in the week leading up to Hastings returned with a vengeance – wiping out another flippin' week of training.

Never mind, I thought, I'd soon be back.

Wrong!! A snuffly nose, a a sore throat, aching limbs. Yep – my annual dose of lurgy arrived bang on cue. Actually I started having an urge to have an illogical argument, wanted to go shopping and couldn't parallel park – so I reckon I've got Bird Flu.

But whatever it is I have got, it means another week without training and my Doctor now tells me that my planned assault on the Paris Marathon is now in Jeopardy, which I can't understand because I was certain it was in Paris.

But the next few weeks do look to be crucial weeks – not only do I have Paris, but three weeks later I feature as a guest celebrity in this year's London Marathon and then shortly afterwards I travel down to Luxembourg for the Night Marathon. All sounds good – but if the body ain't working .......

And you thought the life of a elite athlete was a bed of violets!!

But never let it be said that this kiddie hasn't got bottle.

Like Barrack Osama says “I'll be Back!”.

Keep on tapering.

Ron.

The lion is stirring once again

Well, I've had five weeks warm weather training - I stayed in and ate pies - I've decided that a thaw is on its way.

More to the point, I've just realised that I'm six weeks away from the first of two spring marathons.

So, this week I've been out on two exhausting, lung-bursting and extremely testing training runs. two miles on each day was as good as I reckon I needed to claw my way back into the UK rankings and get this bally 2012 Olympic Marathon Gold Medal chase back on track.

OK, I underestimated the task in hand and over estimated the amount of latent fitness slumbering in my body. I'm still of a certain size and shape - still getting that bilyp noise when I run.

But, hey, don't knock it. I need to get myself back on track - so just you watch me go!!

I'll show all you doubters that I can do what I say I can do. But remember that these things are not done overnight - its a long term project and I'll need every bit of that time.

Never doubt me Ronnettes - your man is very firmly on track.

Let's rock and roll as Nicholas Wychell would say.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Christmas time for athletes

So, its Christmas time. A time for living and a time for giving as Clint Richard sung in that Christmas record. It's at times like these that your man here turns his thoughts not to my hopes and expectations in the sporting arena - but to the hopes and fears of others. Because, deep down, I'm just a humble person with lots of love to give out - and I do care about you all.

Whenever I make one my many public appearances I get approached by ordinary people asking me what life is like as a sporting icon. And, you know Ronettes, its difficult for me to express myself without feeling ... how should I say ... smug. Because I cant deny it, life as a sporting icon is special, it is different to the life that you probably lead.

But that's just what life is like isn't it? Sometimes you get dealt a bum deal and, for instance, you get to be born in a poor country like Wales or Yorkshire. But if that happens you just have to get on with life as well as trying to be as miserable as sin. And what about those that got the two of spades when God dealt the cards and ended up a woman? They didn't complain did they? OK they may have made up for it since but at least they have us men to keep their spirits up.

So, whilst I do try and empathise with ordinary people it is difficult. But I take heart from the little pep talks I give to people and I hope that they go some way to bringing a little sunshine into their otherwise poor lives.

Of course, this time of year can be a particularly difficult time for me because I have to juggle the demands placed upon me by my exhaustive training regime and the demands placed on me down at the Dog and Duck by Ernie and his mates. But I still love the life I lead.

So my Christmas was a whirl of social occasions - I went out for a few tubes with Ernie and then we went for a kebab on Christmas Eve. Felt a tad ropey so stayed in bed till lunchtime on Christmas Day then got a lift to the Dog and Duck for a couple of hours with the boys. Went round to Ernies for some turkey sandwiches and completely forgot about the Half Share, Haille Minogue, The Droog and The Sod being there. Think I could have been in trouble but I dug up a privet hedge on the way home and presented it to the family before deciding to leave them in peace to watch the telly. But, for God's sake, what's Christmas if its not for the kids eh?

Anyway festivities were well and truly over this morning when we ventured over to Eastbourne for a bit of cross country action. Galley Hill in a gale force wind with ice on the ground was not my idea of a game of soldiers. And after a 2 mile run down hill and a two mile run back up the hill with the wind in my face the idea of some warm weather training suddenly became very attractive.

So, I've decided to get my act together and drop a few lines to some of these foreign countries and see if they can't offer me some freebie training facilities - I'll let you know how I get on!!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Great news Ronettes!!

I know its Christmas Day but I have some great news my friends, which I know you'd want me to share with you.

Following my magnificent performance in the Hastings Marathon, I've received a place in next year's London Marathon.

I'm assuming that Sir David Bedford has awarded me the place to try and boost the prestige of the event - and I expect I'll be in amongst the other elite and celebrity compertitors.

Of course, it means I'm going to have to crack on a bit - I'm already booked in for the Paris Marathon which takes place three weeks before.

And if that doesnt prick up the ears of the selectors I don't know what will.

Anyway, on this day of jolly excess, remember that life for an elite athlete goes on - so I'm on my third tube of Guinness!!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Piece of cake this marathon lark

So I'd signed up for this flippin' Hastings Marathon hadn't I?

Old Brainbox from Zimbabwe had decided it would be good for his fitness and good for my profile if we walked the bally thing. Although I had joked about my little 4.2 mile race in Swanley last week being my training session, this kiddie is, of course, a serious athlete and I have to take the sport and all its challenges seriously. But I also have to take my responsibilities seriously too ....

... which is why, on the day before the Hastings Marathon, I was to be found performing the opening ceremony at the Kent Christmas Cracker in Deal, organised by those gin-soaked bozos from Nice Work. Now I don't know if you've ever been to this particular part of Caravan County - but Deal is what I would call remote. In fact, if Deal had been discovered before Mansfield we'd now be quite comfortable with the expression "It's grim down south'.

We were at an old mining site now rather poetically renamed Fowlmead Country Park - and it is remote, it is wild and windy - and, my God can it rain there. Plus, it was cold enough to freeze the handle off my teapot. And so as soon as I'd performed my ceremonial duties I retired to the Dog and Duck with my van driver Ernie and Granddad Stan the Bandana Man - and promptly got stuck into a few tubes of Guinness and a bottle of red wine.

Now I know that's not fuel for an athlete - but I thought it was OK fuel for a walker. And so I retired for the evening feeling pretty comfortable with myself.

About 3 o'clock in the morning I awoke with a start. The old grey matter had been churning round and I'd been doing a bit of mental arithmetic. My average walking pace is around two and a half miles an hour. So, let's assume I could crack on a bit - but then factor in the long, long distance. This bally marathon was going to take us around eight and a half hours to walk!!!

And the cut of time my dear Ronnettes?

Six hours.

Now how's that for a quandary? I was in between a brick and a hard hat here wasn’t I? The Zimbabwe Flash wanted to do the thing. Neither of us was fit enough to do it - but there would be hundreds, if not thousands, of people lining the streets. We couldn't disappoint them could we?

So, at 9.15 I found myself in the wonderful seaside town of Hastings frantically searching for the ZF - and after finding him slumped over a hair of the dog taking the last remnants from a packet of Park Drive I broke the bad news to him.

We were going to have to run the flippin' thing.

Being an elite athlete though I had worked out a race strategy. Obviously, the youngsters - those who felt they had something to prove - we'd let them go. We'd let those who fancied a go at your man here - beggar 'em - let them go too. Any international athletes could head north, and I'd already demanded that I didn’t run near anybody from Yorkshire, Wales or Scotland.

That left about half a dozen of us. Our strategy was cunning but simple. We'd need to conserve energy. So we would walk up any incline - no matter how steep or not steep - we would walk. And we'd jog slowly along any flat bits. And we'd run down the hills.

Which is how we found ourselves walking after 100 yards of the flippin' event. But it did give the packed streets what they'd come for - an unhindered view of an athletic and sporting icon. They applauded warmly as we completed the first 600 metres in 10 minutes although I have to say not that many of them hung around to see us come around on the second lap. I blame that on the fact that much of the crowd were just ordinary people and women - not much sporting knowledge you see.

But do you know something? My cunning race plan did work. It left us with enough energy to get ourselves out of Hastings and on to the long drag around rural East Sussex. My cunning plan might not have been that swift in its execution but it was a workable plan never the less. And I'd calculated that if we stuck to the plan we might just get back to the finish around the cut-off time. And that, I reckoned, would be some achievement for your man here.

So what happened?

Well we only went and finished the bally thing!! In doing so, we came in just five minutes outside the six hour cut off time. BUT ... because for much of the race we were at the south end of the field, by the time we got to Bexhill-on-Sea the chuffing marshals hade been sent home because it was so bally cold - which meant your kiddie here, the ZF plus assorted competitors - including a Rhinoceros - were left scratching our heads in some God forsaken part of the town wondering where on earth to go. And where did we go? Yup - the wrong way!! So, we ended up doing 27 miles rather than the regulation 26.2!! And if we had done the normal distance - we'd have been home under that cut off time.

So I was rather proud of my 6 hours 6 minutes. On so little training but confirmation of that old truism - class is permanent.

I'm not sure where I came in the grand scheme of things but I reckon easily top twenty.

So, roll on London 2012 eh?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Back in the groove - and with wings on. This kiddie is smokin'!!!!

After eight days or so of head-down, body aching, painful training, this kiddie burst back on to the international road running scene with a vengeance at the weekend.

Like a well oiled machine, a coiled spring and a meteor waiting to launch itself from a meteor launcher type thing, I exploded with talent, power and speed on Sunday morning.

Yep. I'm back in the big time.

There was a great turn out with many, many locals as well as experienced athletes turning out to see my first race back in the UK since returning from Indialand. I was, of course, in Swanley for their little Christmas Caper. A gruelling 4.2 mile race saw me scythe my way through the field like a spoon through hot butter. I crossed the line in 45.03 and in 393rd position out of 484. Of course I would have finished much, much higher but you must remember that I am just back from a career threatening injury, a near-death encounter with a wild boar, two weeks laid up with a contagious disease and I had a bit of a headache. Plus, of course, I had to keep stopping to sign autographs and the like. So, I was pretty pleased with myself and notched the result down as a kind of step one on my UK comeback trail.

The only blot on the day was the behaviour of my lad The Sod. Supposed to be keeping his old man free of marrauders and stopping the crowd getting too close and impeding me, the little herbert beggared off with barely a glance behind me to finish the course in a little over 37 and a half minutes. I returned to the finish area to see him casually leaning against a tree, looking at his watch and pretending to look bored. I gave him a leathering and took his Christmas Pudding off him. That'll learn him not to respect his father.

But I am so grateful for all those well wishers and women turning out to see me. Bless 'em it must be really quite odd being ordinary. They, of course, knew exactly who I was - but to me, their little faces were just smiley images amongst a sea of bodies. Do you like how I've become all poetic since I came back from Indialand and suffered with my near-death experience?

But I bade them farewell and returned home satisfied and with a cracking bacon buttie inside me.

So, what do you do next after completing your first 4.2 mile run in yonkeroos?

No contest.

You run a marathon.

Thats right. This Sunday is the first Hastings Marathon since 1908. And I'm taking part as a kind of celebrity runner. How exciting is that?

This will be my first run at the full 26.2 mile distance since Paris in April so obviously I'm not going to win the bally thing. In fact, between you and I it could take me some consideable time to complete.

In fact, I'll let you into a secret. Its not all guns and roses being an international icon you know. Even top performers like us have feelings you know. And the feeling I have at the moment is something akin to that I had when I caught that nasty e-cauliflower bug thing from Indialand.

Ronnettes - I am dobbing myself. Is this an act of wanton stupidity? Am I really respecting the diatnce and the event?

Will I survive?

I'll let you know.

Keep on tapering.

Ron