Half and Half

Phew!

That's all I can say.

Phew!

Been a bit of a week and a half of it over the last two weeks. And its given me time to practice my new pre-Olympic strategy. I've decided that with all the modern technology now available it is likely that I'm being spied upon by my opponents in the Marathon in 2012.

Now, I've always proudly carried the 'Deceptively slow' label and so, I've decided to fool everybody and lull them into a false sense of security. You see I reckon it makes sense to pretend that I'm not actually as good as I really am. That way the opponents slow up - and then when it matters I can just leave them standing knowing full well that they will have taken their foot off the electric during their training.

I have used the strategy to good effect over the last two Sundays.

Last Sunday I ran with a lot of old people in the Hastings Half Marathon and just missed out on a podium place. My time of 2.28.58 was good enough to beat the dolphin and some blokes oulling some beer barrels so I have to be pleased with my performance.

Yesterday I popped along to Maidstone in Caravan County for something called the A20 Pathway 13/21 race. I opted for the 13 mile race and zipped round in a rather impressive 2 hours 35 minutes which was good enough to make most of the 21 mile competitors eat my exhaust fumes. Of course one or two were whinging that they'd covered more distance than I had, but as I've said many times before - whose fault is that?

And, in any event, isn't it first past the post that counts? You don't get Paul Radcliffe and those Kenyan men moaning that they should win because they ran a bit further in the New York marathon do you? So, until the day they award the winner's prize to a bloke who doesnt come first over the line, in my mind I beat those other people fair and square.

Right - has that little bone of contention been put to bed?

Its Easter this week and I'll be taking a couple of days R 'n' R with Ernie to sample a tube or two. I'm also going to Folkestone on Friday to win the Folkestone 10. Other than that it will be an easy week on the training front - my legs are a bit sore from three weeks on the bounce covering 13 miles.

So, in the words of Elaine Page "I'm having a blow".

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Poor me

I've woke up this morning and I'm in a bit of a state.

I've caught Kennel Cough off our dog Mandelson and under normal circumstances I think I'd have turned over in bed and waited for my fry-up to arrive. But its the Hastings Half Marathon this morning and I know that they have had a substantial boost in entries due to my appearance.

So, I cant let down all those people can I? Its times like this when Olympians come to the fore. So, its chest out, adopt my British Poodle Spirit and just try to think what Keith Chegwin would do if faced with the same problem.

I'll be there Ronettes, don't worry.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

That Belgium experience

I'm still seething about my aborted trip to Belgiumland last weekend to take part in the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race.

You see, the deal was quite straightforward. As a celebrity Olympian the soaks at Nice Work asked to me to join them. Well I thought that's what they'd said but the old phone line was a bit crackly. I don't normally deal with the mucky side of my Olympic quest and I leave all discussions about sponsorship and endorsements to Ernie. But as Ernie was away on a Plumbers convention I took the call myself.

Well I'm sure the bloke asked me to come along to do a spot of coaching. Well that's right up my street I thought and I began looking forward to putting some of the old crocks masquerading as runners through their paces. Imagine my horror when I turn up at Ashford and the bloke chucks me a set of keys, points out where the indicators are and promptly jumps in the back and settles down with a brown ale and a Ginsters.

Coaching? I was driving the bally bus!!

Anyway through a mix of luck and good judgement I got the 1956 Bedford Tourer to a spot that looked vaguely like Belgium, parked the thing up and went straight for the chips and Leffe. We had a pleasant enough evening mixing with my friends and supporters over there. I think they particularly liked the new musical routine I've invented - I've put one of my pelvic squirt routines to music. It went OK - but I did get the feeling that not many of the Frenchies had heard of either Rolf Harris or The Court of King Caractacus - but never mind. And the table was old and nearly broken anyway!

Switch now dear Reader to the morning after the night before - and to where things started to tip the weekend downhill. I have to say that I was feeling on tip top form and after I'd got a couple of the runners to give us a push start I got the Bedford down to the start line, parked up and got stripped off ready for the race.

And then some clever clogs Charlie pointed out that there was a bally puncture on the bus!! Well, I wasn't too chuffed but I thought it would get us home - I mean there was six wheels on the flippin' bus and I reckoned four - one for each corner - plus one spare was quite enough thank you. But no - they started shouting Health and Safety stuff at me. The bottom line was that matey boy here had to pull the old Hi-Vis on over my lycra and wait for the flippin' RAC or whatever they're called in Belgiumland.

And as well as standing around waiting for the bloke to come out and fix it, I missed the race. All that way and all I had to show for it was a fading hangover and a foreign Hi-Vis.

A sore experience and believe me did I tear a strip off Ernie when I got back. Well fair's fair - I need him to sort out the commercial part of my sporting superstar career leaving me to free to focus on what I'm good at.

Winning medals for England.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

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.

Water, water everywhere - and only beer to drink

Life as an Olympian can be a grind sometimes you know.

As Harry H Corbett who spent all his life with his hand up Sooty's jacksie was often heard to say "Life as an Olympian can be a grind sometimes you know".

It's now March and although my training has been going well, I've still not managed to put in a single competitive personal appearance. After the washout that was Dover, I mosied over to Wittersham - a kind of southern version of Skelmersdale - for something called the Isle of Oxney Hot Soup 5 Mile Dash. I wasn't running - I was the celebrity starter. Well you would certainly have thought you were on an island the amount of flippin' rain that came down. It was so stormy it was blowing Frenchmen across the channel. So I started the race by shouting 'Go' and beggared off to the pub. I know there's this kind of brotherhood thing about running and athletes - but I wasn't hanging around in that stuff I can tell you.

Despite the inclement weather though I have managed to keep the old training regime up to my usual high standards. I've been out with the Old People of Hastings a few times - it does cheer them up when I bowl up, you know. You see, I've always a little tale to tell, a nudge here, a whispered word of encouragement there. And I know it really does lift them to feel as though they are actually part of my Olympic journey. I've taught them my Anal Crunch and Pelvic Squirt regime though admittedly the ripped lycra episode was a little unseemly. But I could tell by the playful way they all keep flicking my ears that they have an awful ot of affection for me.

Bless their little cotton singlets.

So this weekend just gone, after upping my training to around 20 miles a week (yes, you heard me right Paul and Mr Gebrselassie (or whatever) you heard me right - that's 20 miles a week. Just think how you could do if you decided to put your little backs into it a bit more!).

Anyway, after another 20 miles plus week I decided to go up to Boris's Folly for a half marathon, dodging needles and MacDonald's boxes in Roding Valley. However my mate Ernie called his mate Alan who works at the council and basically he told me not to even bother going out of the door on Sunday. It was going to be torrential.

And so it was.

And so I did.

I stayed in. Instead I did a 10 mile jaunt from Hythe to Folkestone and return on Saturday morning to get me some practice for this coming weekend's first International appearance of the season in Belgium.

Yup I'm going back to the land of my spiritual fathers and Leffemongers. I'm off to Bruges for the annual Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race. I'm nipping off with the gin fuelled caravan organised by Nice Work. Its about my sixth time of appearing here and the Belgiumites always put on a good show for us - and I try to reciprocate by ganging up with them and the Dutch to stuff the wind up any Frenchies who happen to be running.

It's a 10 Mile Race and I'm feeling pretty confident of making the top 5 finishers. I reckon if I can dip under 1 hour 50 mins I'll be on the podium.

To help me prepare for my big weekend I shoved away half a dozen Leffe last night and, just to be on the safe side, two waffles.

I just know I'm going to be smokin'!!!

Tomorrow its a training run with the Old People of Hastings then I'll do a spot of carbo-Loading at Stavros's kebab wagon on the way home.

I can't wait.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

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

Out of sight, out of mind? No chance.

Just a short note to tell you that I'm still here - and let me tell you, this kiddie is smoking!!

I've had a head-down attitude over the last four weeks putting in some miles. I bumped into some old people in Hastings and they've kindly let me use them as pace-laggers for my training runs. They're a kindly bunch, if you excuse the smell of stale beer and woodbines, but if I've helped them just half as much as they've helped me ... then they will have helped me twice as much as I've helped them.

Which I think is fair.

I've not done any racing since the start of the year - it doesn't do an Olympian much good to over-race, although I did make a couple of personal cameo-like appearances at a couple of races in Caravan County. I popped over to the Dartford 10 to see what was occurring and then on Sunday I signed a few autographs at the Ashford & District 10K where my old muckers Nice Work were trying to make a fist out of organising the race.

But my weekly sessions with the old people in Hastings has helped - none of that sea-front-shuffling-for-jessies stuff - I've been running up and down hills. As Amanda Holden would say "Yeah - hills".

I've been trying to build up my stamina and my mileage to get ready for that London Marathon thing in April. At the moment I'm a touch above my fighting weight - well more than a touch entre noo - but class is permanent and I'm confident I'll be in the top three come podium time. Can't wait to lock noses with my old mucker Paul Radcliffe again - that's if he can keep his iffy toilet habits in check that is!

Big day for me this Sunday though with my first half marathon for almost a year. I'm down Caravan County again doing a bit of tarmac dodging in the Dover Half Marathon. The Half Share is threatening to come along too - but if there's a breath of wind she'll no doubt want to stay sat in front of the box with her curlers, knitting and a box of Newberry Fruits if I know her. The step up in distance is a big one for me - I'm not expecting graet things either and if I finish in the top ten I'll be happy.

A week later and I'm the celebrity starter at another CC event - the Isle of Oxney Hot Soup 5 Mile Hot Soup Dash - well at least I'll get a bowl of soup out of it!! Then its up to London for a first time race in the capital since that fiend Livingstone got bounced out of the Great Unfinished City. If I can dodge the needles and dog pooh I'll be hoping I can win the Roding Valley Half Marathon - and then a week later its over to my spiritual home - Belgiumland.

We're there for the Ostend to Bruges 10 Mile Race - again with that bunch of gin-soaked has-beens from Nice Work (Christ, they're getting some mentions today!!). Its an event that I get invited to every year - its always flippin' parky, but there's always a nice beer awaiting!

As it happens I paid a flying vsisit to Belgiumland last week to see the fine burghers of Veurne. A sprightly place with more varieties of beer than there are people. Had such a good time I can't remmber a flippin' thing about it - apart from, that is, some beer called Guillotine.

Give me strength I muttered to the barman - and he did.

12% worth!!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Six inches won't stop this kiddie

Well, my Olympic training programme remains on hold thanks to this pesky weather.

We've had huge 2 mililitre snow drifts here which means, of course, that everything has ground to a halt. No roads to run on - well the roads have been there, but buried underneath an inch and a half of ice. So, too dangerous this week to even step outside the front door. In fact, its been all we can do for Ernie and I to get to the Brick and Trumpet - the Half Share has been struggling to clear the road, to be fair. But today has seen another deluge of the white stuff. It must be deep out there because I heard the Half Share tell Buttocks the Oil Delivery Man that she hadn't seen six inches since 1997.

But if this weather is going to hang around much longer then I'm going to have to devise a special winter training plan - and I've done just that.

No matter the weather, I am grateful for having the opportunity to get outdoors. Well it gets me out of a few jobs apart from anything else. And being outdoors in fresh snow brings so many opportunities to show how you feel about certain people. Like the selfish ha'porth who insists on revving his motor bike every morning at 7 o'clock. So he got a snowball on the back of his helmet; as did the traffic warden, as did next door's cat who insists on peeing on my bike wheels.

But running in the snow is not without its hazards of course. But I say get your self dressed, get prepared and get out and have some fun. We didnt win three world wars with a give-up attitude did we? Lets see a bit of that old Gundog spirit eh?

Here’s a few Ron suggestions if you do opt to get out there:

Always dress properly.
For me, this means:
o proper head gear - for me that's my 1969 Leicester City bobble cap (minus bobble)
o a good quality pac-a-mac
o tights are for strange people and wally runners - I wear woollen leggings
o a proper Millets anorak
o wool socks
o Dunlop wet weather shoes - though if the snow is really deep, I run in wellies. It helps to build up my stamina. You may laugh but when did you last see Paul Ratcliffe in wellies eh? Exactly - and how many races has he won this year? Point proved.
Watch your footing!

There may be a sheet of ice under that fresh snow, so make sure your wellies or pumps are well scrubbed.

In fact, come to think of it, if the elements are against you and you find it just too slippy, why not just do as I do?

Forget the whoel bally idea and just go to the pub instead.

Keep on tapering

Ron

Happy New Year everybody!!

Or, as the French would say "Gut New Jaar".

Well what a Festive season this kiddie has had! Life as an icon isn't easy sometimes you know and that's why I awarded myself a clear two week pass to just relax and get some much-needed carbo loading in to preface the kick start to my London Marathon regime.

Well, folks, ask me how I feel now?

The truth is, entre noo, I think I may have overtrained somewhat and I'm beginning to regret that little bit of Christmas spirit I entered into and exited from with some degree of whoosh. I spent the time with family and like-minded people and I'm afraid the Olympic diet and training programmes have drifted south.

I realised I might have got my timings slightly wrong when I came home on New Year's Day after what I thought was a fairly agreeable evening of Chicken Tikka Masala and a few tubes down the Dog and Bucket with Ernie. Well you'd have thought I'd kidnapped Ted Heath by the reception I got from the Half Share and Cash Drainers who apparently weren't happy that I'd gone awol for a couple of days.

But I did explain that Christmas is a time for families - New Year is a time for mates.

That went down well.

But not as well as New Year's Day. It started after I suggested that a couple of bacon butties would be just the job for me and Ernie. Well before you could say Bobby Davro, I was chewing the rough end of a set of bathroom scales. After some encouragement from the Half Share I did eventually stand on the bally things.

Well, Ronettes, you could have knocked me down with a quilt. I thought the flippin' thing was telling me the time - but horror of horrors it was my weight. And I was kind of a bit the wrong side of where I shouldn't be.

And that is putting it mildly. So that was it! The Half Share whipped off me kex and after thinking it was some kind of foreplay that's where the fun stopped. Before I knew it she'd flung a set of my Festive Lycra and a pair of green flash at me and pushed me out the front door for what she called a pre-training walk. Walk? I haven't even driven that far this Christmas!! Eleven and a half miles she had me walking - over shingle, sand dunes and beach. My calfs felt like they'd been ripped off my legs when I'd finished.

And it didn't stop there either!! There was no way I could run yesterday so as a punishment I wasn't allowed a pie.

I now know that I need to knuckle down. I know because it has been written on a piece of paper and stapled to my head. So this morning I went for my first run in weeks. Two flippin' miles!! That's all I could manage - 2 miles!

More to the point, I was so traumatised by the experience I couldn't take my lycra off for hours - I just sat in front of the fire hugging a cup a soup. And as I sat trying to get my Olympic flame to light I decided that I needed to have a few New Years Resolutions to encourage me to glory in 2010 - just two years now mind you - before my glorious Olympic medal winning occasion.

So here are my commitments for 2010:

1. January is officially a 'No Pie' month. Well at least until the last weekend in the month when I have insisted that no trip to Cork can be considered fulfilled without a pie.

2. I'm having to leave the tubes alone in January - apart from Saturday nights.

3. Learn to play a musical instrument. Might sound ridiculous but when I appear on chat shows I need to be able to play or sing a duet with people like Des O'Connor. So the Half Share has bought me a ukulele.

4. Learn a foreign language. I need to connect more with the Cash Drainers so I'm going to learn to speak text.

5. I must stop lying on the couch watching rubbish TV. So I've bought some exercise and workout DVDs and I'm going to sit and watch them instead.

6. I'm going to stop delaying things. Starting tomorrow,

7. I'm fed up with being in the same old rut - so I'm determined to find a new rut.

8. I've got a job so I'm going to stop working in the office in just my Y Fronts. I'm going to move the computer into the bedroom instead.

9. Get a place on the GB Team - I'm not fashed about competing I just want one of those fancy track suits.

10. Buy some 'Blong' so that I can look like those proper athletes.

I'll be doing my best with these - and in the meantime, the serious running business gets under way this week. I need a good three or four runs before the weekend. Then, on Sunday, its the Swanley 10K - and at the moment I have to say that I'd struggle to make the distance.

Anyway, from all my team here - Ernie and the Half Share, the Droog, Hylie Minogue and the Sod, here's to a great New Year. In the words of Griff Rhys Jones 'Go Bang a Drum'.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Hey!! It's Christmas - a time of good beer to all men

Deck the bells with walls and cherries!!

Its Christmas time again. And at times like these my thoughts turn to those ordinary people in the world who are not as fortunate as us elite Olympians. You see I know how difficult it is in these Credit Scratch times when money is tight. Some people even have to have Bernard Matthews turkeys, you know!

I thought that I'd just drop you a seasonal line to let you know how my strict regime has been going – and also share with you my thoughts as we approach this festive period.

I must admit Ronettes that I've taken the foot of the electric this last couple of weeks and my training is not quite what it should be – but I'm confident that I'll get things back on track in the New Year. I've not done too many miles as the place has been stuffed with snow, ice and rain. Training is always difficult when the bad weather comes because the Half Share does struggle to get the path and road clear at Ron Towers – despite me buying her a new shovel for her birthday. So, I decided that I'd have a period of rest and focus instead on tapering and carbo loading. I did though make a couple of personal appearances. I pottered up to Caravan County to help start the Kent Christmas Cracker – and enjoyed helping dish out mullered wine and mint pies to runners. Last Saturday I carried out similar duties at the Christmas Pudding Dash in Battle and it was good to catch up with some of the legion of adoring fans I've assembled. Bit of an issue with the mullered wine and Ernie but I chucked him in the back of his Transit and we got out before the police arrived.

I've got my training plans in place for the New Year and I will be stepping up my mileage as I prepare for my celebrity appearance in next year's London Marathon. I've also got a string of overseas races planned in Cork, Bruges, Paris, Luxembourg, Norway, France, Amsterdam and, of course, my return to Indialand in October. So, it's going to be a busy year for Yours Truly as 2012 begins to loom large. I have also suggested that the Half Share puts her back into it and gets some miles under her belt – and I think she appreciated my concern when I pointed out that her midriff was not supposed to be hanging over her pinny.

So what is life like for an Olympic superstar I hear you shouting? I'm visiting family for a couple of days and I'm currently in a place called the Midlands which is somewhere that people go to to get used accents before visiting the north. I've brought my mate Ernie with me to help with my training programme.

Today is Christmas Eve and I'll be holding my usual Training Planning meeting with Ernie later today. We'll probably pop up to the Horse and Cucumber for a couple of tubes then go for a little tour of local places of worship before settling down with a kebab and watch Spartacus. Christmas Day we'll nip to the Rose and Thorn for a sip with the Landlord before sitting down to the full turkey monte which the Half Share should have defrosted by the time we get home. Then it's a well earned kip on the couch whilst the Cash Drainers sit watching Mary Poppins – and that's what is important for me. Christmas is a time for the kids and as long as they enjoy it then I'm happy. Well so long as they keep out of my way and keep the bally noise down.

I'll be returning to Ron Towers on Boxing Day and there's a small chance that I may make an appearance at a local 10K on Sunday. I'll also be aiming to return to Caravan County on New Year's Day for the Deal Bar Run - it says Bra Run in the papers but I presume thats a typing error.

I'll pop back with my Annual Christmas and New Year Message soon – but in the meantime have a happy and merry Christmas. And kids – remember that at this time of year there are always people worse off than yourself, so make sure you keep all your sweets and chocolates safe. You don't want people trying to pinch em!

In the words of the Bobby Davro song – rom pom pom pom.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

What is the point of a hill?

That's it. I've had enough of training like ordinary people. I'll be writing to Sir Sid Coe first thing tomorrow to demand some proper respect for us Olympic greats - and that includes some bally warm weather training.

I've just got back from a personal appearance at the Crowborough 10K. It was cold. It was wet. It was miserable. And it was tough.

Tell me this Ronettes.

What is the point of hills?

I mean. Just what is the bally point?

(To be continued)

Sorry, it's a day later. Had a bit of trouble with Septic Knuckles the Rent Man's stooge so had to lie low for a day.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes. Hills.

Crowborough is built on a hill and the locals' idea of fun is to design a 10K course that includes the local peak - and because it's a two lap course you have to negotiate the damn thing twice.

Well ha flippin ha Crowpeople. I suppose you thought that was funny eh? Good gracious, I swear on the life of Ronnie Corbett I am never doing the thing again. It's just far too much exertion for a Sunday morning. I mean, OK, so I posted a time of 1.09.31, which is just outside the top ten I think, but why? Why? Why?

Why have that hill eh? Indeed, why have any hill? In fact ... what is the point of hills full stop? What useful purpose do they serve eh?

Do you see Sir Steve Bygraves rowing his Olympic canoe down a hill? No!! Do you see Paul Ratcliffe running the women's marathon up the side of a bloody mountain? No!! Do Boxing men fight on the side of the mountains? No!! Do they have uphill hurdles? No!(Oh, OK, some of them funny people in Brighton do uphill hurdling, but that's their business). Do they have fencing matches with one bloke 3 foot higher than his opponent? No!!! Bally No!!!

A resounding 'No' to all of these questions.

And that's because all these sports have decided that it is plain stupid involving hills. You can't sit comfortably on a hill without falling over. You cant put a tube down on a hill without it falling over. Ernie's van rolls down hills without us in it.

So, sort it out Crowborough - and any of those other Flash Harry's who decide it's a bit of a laugh having a race up a hill.

Anyway, I've made my point.

Having recovered from the thing I did train like a proper Olympian today. Ernie said I'd done a Fartlek but I think it was just my pumps squeaking. I ran for about 40 minutes alternating between lightning speed and slow jogging.

But the best news of the day was ...... my plea for warm weather training did NOT fall on deaf eyes. And so, tomorrow, I fly to Barcelona for a couple of days warm weather pootling. So, you can say Bonjour to this kiddie - this time tomorrow I'll be feasting on Bratwurst and Steins of Lager as I introduce myself to those nice people in the Land of the Popping Sun.



N'est Pas Non Amis - and Sayonara.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Global warming - you're having a laugh!!

I had already committed to a Personal Appearance in West Sussex on Sunday so when I woke early-ish, it wasn't just the kebab carton by my pillow that concerned me.

First of all - where is West Sussex? Surely there's only one Sussex? But I'd promised to appear - for no fee whatsoever I might add - at something called the Foxtrot Five in a place called Shoreham. I don't know if you have ever been to Shoreham but I'm sure it looked great in the 1950's.

That's what I promised to do - and I didn't want to let down my followers. So I set off in Ernie's van with Half Share in the back sitting on his stepladder.

Dear people.

The heavens opened. The wind was blowing Frenchmen across the channel. The hailstones were coming down quicker than Betty Trollop's drawers.

In short the weather was horrendous.

We arrived in Shoreham about an hour before race time - but the weather was so bad we had to stay in the van. The half share started whingeing saying she'd get wet going for the teas - but, hey, do you hear Tyrone Woods' caddie moaning about having to carry his golf sticks? Do you hear Henry Cooper's bloke in the corner moan when he's asked to take the lid off the vaseline? Do you hear Lord Redcliffe's boat people carp when he asks them to out his canoe on the Olympic river? A big three times 'No'.

I mean its fine when these people want to hang on to your shirt tails when they get a sniff of the Gold Medal - but signing up to an elite athlete's back-up team is not something you do on a whim. It demands commitment. It demands dedication. And yes, sometimes you will get wet.

So I reminded the Half Share of this principle as she mooched off to find a couple of bacon butties and two teas with one sugar.

Anyway, back to sporting excellence.

I ran the bally thing. And the weather didn't let up. It poured with rain and the wind blew like you wouldn't believe. It blew all the way to the half way stage as the race took us along the estuary - and then we turned back and ran against the strongest headwind I've ever experienced - accompanied by hailstones.

Of course as all this is going on, I got a couple of smart beggars asking me for an autograph. Well ha flippin ha - so I told them in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interrupting an Olympic training session for a couple of oiks.

I eventually got round the thing in 56.13 - which is not too far away from world record pace.

So, despite the conditions I was reasonably happy.

I eventually arrived back to find the van only to discover that the Half Share had deposited a plastic bag with my clothes where the van should have been.

It was a petulant display which, frankly was nothing more than childish. And the money she'd left for my train fare was only just correct - leaving me with no spare spondoolinks for a tube or a pie.

A highly unsatisfactory weekend.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Starting to ramp up now

Well its that time that all elite athletes dread - the Saturday after the Friday night. Naturally I've not been on the lash because ... well because I am elite! Plus Ernie's van broke down last night and he couldn't pick me up from the kebab wagon, so I did without the usual Friday night half keg. Instead I thought I'd try and pick up some tips from a contemporary of mine and watched Trevor Wogan on Children Indeed last night.

Well if anything can give you a bally hangover its watching that drivel. I mean I know us celebs are rolly models and I know we have to put our bit back into the community. But I tell you this I'm giving that charity a wide berth when I'm an Olympic champion. Its just so full of dreary people! Nope - when I get to choose my telly appearances for poor people I'm going to go on one of those jollies to somewhere hot and sunny like those comedians do - always assuming that the money is right of course.

But sitting there last night with the Half Share I did get to thinking of some of the places that I've been lucky enough to visit in this so-far glittering career of mine - Indialand, France, Belgium, Welwyn Garden City, that place where they wear clogs and drink a lot, Norway and who could forget Luxembourg? And, you know, in that time I must have whipped the backsides of many different personalities representing many different countries. I've enjoyed the company of some of them, I've felt like decking some of them - but they all have something in common - I stuffed them where it mattered. Here's some of them:

Paul Ratcliffe - I used to respect him and we often shared a few tubes after a race. I usually beat him but I ignore his time of 2 hours and a few minutes for that London Marathon race because I didn't feel well. But I went right off him when he stopped for a poo in the middle of a race. Some of us have standards you know.

Haille Gebrselassie - well he might have the current marathon world record but I beat him in a 10K in Bexhill a couple of years ago and he hasn't spoken to me since.

Paul Tergat - had a memorable battle with him at the 2007 London Marathon. The race between us was made a bit more difficult than we first anticipated because he was running dressed in a Motorola Mobile Phone costume and he blamed that for the fact he had to drop out. Who finished? Who didn't? I rest my bag.

Ron Hill - oh very funny. I bowled up to race in Bolton near a place called the north and this bloke turned up claiming to be Ron Hill. I have to say he pigged me off a bit because some of the crowd actually thought he was the famous Ron. As Ronnie Corbett used to say, "Say La V".

Eddie Large - mullered him in a 5 miler in Reading. Good bloke though - bought me a kebab afterwards.

Mildred Sampson - claimed to be an Olympic Marathon runner but I made her eat dust when I beat her in the Folkestone 10 a few years ago. I did feel a bit embarrassed when I gave her a bit of lip and accused her of being an umposter - then when I got home she had, indeed, competed at the Olympics in 1924.

Beth Wilkinson - she might have designs on making the GB squad but she's yet to beat me fair and square in the marathon.

Anyway, I haven't got time to daydream I went out for a nippy 4 mile run round our lanes this morning and it brought a dash of reality to my otherwise star-studded life. I was amongst my own people, ordinary people and some women too. No crowds, no autographs. Just me and the wind and the chilly air of Good Old Blighty. A vision cruelly stripped from my mind when I went backside over thingy after slipping on some dog poo.

Tomorrow I'm off with the Half Share for a bash at something called the Foxtrot Five. Its in a place called West Sussex but I don't mind. It could be rough, it could be unfriendly, it could get nasty - but once the car journey with the Half Share is over, it could be me bringing home the bacon once again.

What a life I have eh?

Keep on tapering.

Ron

And another thing ....

I'm still smarting about the Old Deer 10K I starred in last Sunday.

I've already griped enough - but one other thing struck me this morning when I woke up next to the Half Share.

It was called the Old Deer 10K - but I never saw any old deers at all - they were mainly elite athletes like me or women.

So what went wrong there then Captain eh?

A nippy off road three or four miles this morning then its round Ernies for a bacon butty.

Bliss.

Keep on tapering

Ron

When missionary work goes pear shaped

I understand that I have responsibilities.

I'm an elite athlete that is proud to win an Olympic Gold medal for my fellow Englishmen - and women, sometimes. So, I try to make sure some of my time is allocated to ordinary people to try and inspire them to reach my widths.

As Val Doonican used to say "You don't get nowt for something".

So, with my responsible hat on I trundled to Livingstone's Pit yesterday with the Half Share and the eldest Cash Drainer, Haille Minogue, in tow. The idea was to do a bit of hand shaking, do a quick burst of my warm up routine, a nippy 10K and then retire to the Green Room for a spot of hospitality.

Well, well, well, what went wrong there then chaps?

I'll leave it to others to articulate the shortcomings of the event - The Old Deer Park 10K - you can have a butchers at some of the comments made here.

I have my own gripes though readers:

1. No appearance money (sorry, I know we shouldn’t bring in the filthy lucre business, but I have to eat!)
2. No hospitality whatsoever
3. I had to stand amongst the ordinary people - no VIP area
4. Nowhere to do my 'routine'
5. A shambles of an event meant I have no idea of my time - so I suppose I'll just have to stick it down as another 29 minute dead race.

A word of warning to Race organisers - we may be celebrities, but we’re almost real people too. We need to have things sorted out for us or we'll just shrink back into our celebrity bubble.

Now shape up!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

PS Just to put the hat on a miserable day, Ernie's van got stuck in the mud! London? You can stick it Livingstone!

Wet weather training?

Now we all know that elite athletes need to dedicate their lives to training. No Gold Medals were ever won by ordinary people were they? Although, granted some women have been given them. No - it takes a superhuman effort to get on that Olympic podium.

And that's exactly what I thought when I woke up this morning to be greeted by the Sister of all storms. The rain was lashing down and the wind so strong it was blowing Irishmen across the Channel.

But I was cool. I was off to Deal to do a spot of missionary work in Caravan County and take part in their little Deal 5 race. Just as I was about to leave the house though I suddenly remembered the letter I'd received from Sir Sid Coe about my Olympic entry. Now you might think this was just an excuse for me to bottle out of running in the wind and rain. Well yah, boo, sucks. Just take a look at the letter from His Holiness - I've copied it in full below:

Dear Elite Athlete

With the English 2012 Olympic Games just 1000 days away, we need all you elite athletes to be in tip top condition.

We expect you to train hard - at least Tuesdays and Thursday nights if you can manage it, please - but we don't want you to overdo it. Remember you're representing England, the Queen, me and other leading people such as Simon Cowell when you pull on the vest.

We need you there in one piece in 2012 - so don't take any unnecessary risks please. In particular, you need to watch out if its raining hard and blowing a gale. You could slip on a leaf, trip over a puddle or even pull a hammy if you're not warmed up.

So, our advice is not to go out if its lashing.

Got that?

Yours

His Highness Sir Sid Coe

PS If any of you know of any potential sponsors for my good friend Ernie's van, give me a bell.


So there you have it! If Sid tells me to stay in, I have no option really. Thats why I didnt.

But whilst I focused on other important stuff like diet and getting sponsors, the Half Share started having a go about the beer cans and kebab boxes that me and Ernie had accidentally chucked in the hedge last night. The bottom line is that I shot out of the house before I got a size nine Timpson up my Davro.

And before I knew I'd done a three and a half mile drudge - arriving back an hour later looking like I'd gone ten rounds with Tommy Cooper.

And you thought the life of an Olympic Elite Gold Medal Athlete was cushty?

Hmmph.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

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