A perfect 10 for a Bank Holiday weekend in Bristol

Easily the best Bank Holiday I can remember for a long time, not only because of all the amazing sunshine which transformed the whole country, but for all the wonderful things Bristol offers.
The weekend kicked off nicely with a boozy Friday night at the newly-refurbished Anchor Pub, which is now part of the Mezze chain. Unfortunately we arrived just too late to make good on the promise of free flowing champagne, (and for some reason the two girls in impossible heels seemed to get served ahead of me) but nevertheless enjoyed getting used to the new-look pub and the several pints of Gem while chatting to an ageing hipppy call Cosmic Sam. I’m not even joking. His name was really Cosmic, something or other.
What was once a neglected relic with carpets and decor from 1973 has in the a matter of weeks been transformed into a modern, contemporary, Mediterranean-influenced gastro type pub, that I’ve been waiting to arrive since I moved here two years ago.
Saturday was full of chores and carbloading for Sunday, when Amy and I took on the Bristol 10K. We’ve both been looking forward to it, and after my decision to pull out of the Edinburgh Marathon, I could really enjoy the occasion and revel in the atmosphere. Amy did  a great job of setting the pace and we finished in a steady 1hr 20mins.

Approaching the finish at the Bristol 10K

It was quite a contrast to the last time we took part, about four or five years ago, when it was a much smaller field of runners and we were much less prepared and in the end was barely able to keep up with a woman dressed as a sugar plumb fairy, with the figure to match, and a few power walkers. I think they were even starting to pick up the cones and reopen the roads as we plodded along. But this year we smashed our previous time by almost 20 minutes, and had a great time being part of this amazing spectacle.
After finishing the run we hit the Burger Joint on Whiteladies Road for a well-deserved pint and mahoosive gourmet burger, which I’d been thinking about most of the way round.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a weird blur as I kept falling asleep on the sofa, in the bath and found myself almost in bed at about 6pm. It was all we could do to muster and get back round the pub for a few more pints in celebration of our achievements.
So today, with the sun shining, my little Schwin Fastback push bike was looking like a very tempting prospect, as news of Team Sky in Italy’s Giro came on the radio. Having just had the bike overhauled at Mike’s Bikes in Portishead, (which is definitely worth a plug as they did such a great job) I decided it was time to road test it properly.
Being lucky enough to live on the cycle network I headed towards Bristol on the Avon River Trail, went through the city and out to Bath, then back again, clocking up about 45 miles in the process.

Of course, everybody else in the world had the same idea and it was very busy, which is great of course as it gives people a chance to get out and enjoy the countryside, like I was. I just wish I could have had it all to myself. I’m waiting for the sunburn to kick in now as it was really properly hot on the road. Despite taking two drinking bottles I had to stop at an ice cream van on the harbourside in Bristol for what turned out to be the best can of Coke and Magnum ice cream I’ve ever had. Much needed at that point.

The view of Bristol's floating harbour and the Balmoral this evening

I also discovered why they have signs on the road there warning cyclists not to ride along the dockside at the floating harbour because of the danger of getting wheels caught in the old tram lines. I discovered this after getting my wheel caught in one of the old tram lines and falling haplessly off my bike, right in front of one of those signs. Must have made someone’s day.
So now back to work, at least it’s only three weeks until the next bank holiday, which I’m sure will be as sunny and amazing. This is England in the springtime after all.

Edinburgh no more...Cardiff here we come

It’s been a tricky few weeks, not in any real sense of course, I’ve been going to work, coming home, and repeating over and over. Compared to the lives of two thirds of the world it’s been absolute unbridled bliss and luxury.
However, in my own little corner of the world, I have been struggling over what to do regarding the Edinburgh Marathon, looming large on the horizon.
Basically, for reasons I can’t quite understand, the momentum in training I’d built up during the harshest winter for years, which saw me losing more than two stone and getting up to 15 miles in distance, has fallen more flat than George Osborne’s plan for economic recovery.

How I would probably end up during the marathon

The last few training runs where I’ve attempted to step up to 17, 19 and 20 miles have all ended badly, hobbling home, and consoling myself with a bag of chocolate Buttons and a bottle of wine. I don’t know what’s more tragic, my pathetic whining and failure in training, or the fact I’m morphing into some kind of male Bridget Jones.
So, anyway, I’ve made a decision based on what I think is the best option in terms of what I feel I can actually achieve, at the same time as honouring my commitment to Cancer Research UK and St Peter’s Hospice.
Having already run a marathon in 2010, I know that I’m not ready to go the distance on May 26 in Edinburgh, and I don’t think it is going to do any good to try to run it and knacker myself halfway through because of a lack of training, and end up hating the idea of running for another three years.
The whole point of applying for the marathon in the first place was to give myself the motivation to get off my backside and start running again to get fit and healthy. Not to break myself on the Royal Mile.
So instead of the Edinburgh Marathon I have decided that I am going to keep training through the summer and run the Cardiff Half Marathon on October 6.
I am still determined to raised £1,000 for Cancer Research and St Peter’s Hospice, and to uphold the memories of all those who initially motivated me to do that. It also means that all of you who have sponsored me so far, and I thank you all for your amazing support, can rest assured your donation will still count towards me pushing myself to the limit and running until I chunder.
In the parlance of management speak, I am realigning my long-term objectives, having seen what success looks like, and going forward will be drilling down to a more realistic achievement scenario.
So, it’s Edinburgh no more, but Cardiff and a summer of training around Bristol, here we come.

Hats off to London 2013

Great response today from the Virgin London Marathon following last week's events in Boston, as thousands fell silent in honour of those killed and injured in the bombings.
Although not there myself today, I did my usual thing of watching on from the comfort of the sofa and enjoyed watching the committed loons of the UK battling it out mile after mile.
Thinking now very much about my own challenge coming up at the Edinburgh Marathon on May 26, as it is now starting to feel very close. Mainly because it is.
I have to say, training has taken a dive of late as motivation has been hard to come by for some reason. I think to a certain extent I may have trained so hard in the early months of the year that I simply ran out of steam.
Have attempted a couple of long runs over the past couple of weekends and just blown up after a few miles, so today I was determined to finish a decent length run to try and bring back the confidence that seemed to be in such abundance just a few weeks ago. It's as much about what's going on in the head as the legs I think, and I've been letting the size of challenge overwhelm me I think.
Today Amy and I went out and took on a 10K run, which although a long way short of a marathon, was a decent target to aim for. Pleased to say we hit eight miles and it was a far more enjoyable experience in the sunshine and comparative warmth compared to January and February. Was also great to have Amy running next to me, although she was a little surprised to discover we'd run eight miles when we were only supposed to be doing 6.6.
So, we're collapsed on the sofa enjoying a Sunday night curry and feeling quite pleased with a good run under our belts today, and hoping that it will now act as a launchpad to push on to the full marathon in a few weeks.

Boston Marathon 2013 - Don't let the bastards win

For anybody who has ever run a marathon, a half marathon, 10K or just jogs for fun, and for those who turn out to watch and cheer and support those who do, this is an attack on every one of them.
The Boston Marathon is a truly international event, 96 countries represented among 27,000 people and over 200 runners from the UK alone.
These are just people like all of us, with hopes and aspirations for the day, been in training for months, maybe years, pinning their courage to their chests and fulfilling a dream.
The bombs went off at the finish line just four hours in, when the majority of club runners and so-called 'fun runners' would have been heading for the line, in fact the main bulk of pack following the elite finishers.
People who have been fundraising for weeks, hosting coffee morning, quiz nights and karaoke nights to help hit their targets for people with cancer, heart disease, mental health issues, children's charities, overseas aid charities, local hospices and probably the local church spire appeal.
People who have found more courage to carry out a single act of alturism than any of the cowards who planted bombs and set them to go off to cause the maximum amount of pain and death.
Fuckers.
So, in recent days and weeks I've been moping about whingeing that I'm not fit enough to run the marathon I'm training for, or that I can't find the motivation to get myself out and go running, and thinking that maybe I should downgrade to a half marathon in Edinburgh on May 26.
But following today's tragedy, and that of the young runner who died taking part in the Brighton Marathon at the weekend, it would seem the only fitting tribute anybody can pay is to keep going and put aside any trivial niggles to make sure we honour their memories. And don't let the bastards win.

Tactical puke pushes Peevers to peerless performance

Training back on track today after a shabby couple of weeks which included a hangover so bad last weekend I could barely walk, let alone run.
So today I was looking forward to taking on a 12 to 13 mile run, in the thankfully warmer spring sunshine.
Despite waking up in Dorset this morning to scenes of snow falling across the green and pleasant, by the time we got back to Bristol the conditions were much better.
However I had once again underestimated the depth of a hangover that was lurking round like an ASBO mugger in a dark alley.
Reason I’d woken up in Dorset was because we’d spent the weekend on my parents’ estate in the country, which was quite lovely. As was the best part of two bottles of red wine I’d drained while enjoying dinner with the folks.
As a result I was feeling quite rough as I headed down the tow path along the Avon from Pill and with barely ten minutes on the watch I was ready to jack it in and go home. This was mainly because of the feverish sweats I’d developed and the sense of nausea. The thing I really needed to do was chunder and hope that would reset the system. So, that’s exactly what I did.
Thinking about the times I’d been at a party and started to feel a bit queasy, I remembered that a tactical puke was just the thing to get me sorted and back to the booze. I never thought it would be something I would deploy in this far more healthy scenario.
Anyway, it worked as I went from being on the verge of returning home and collapsing in front of the telly, to pushing on and completing a 13 mile run in 2hrs 43mins. At that pace it’s going to be a long day in Edinburgh on May 26, but I’m glad to get half marathon distance under my belt at this stage.
Just ten weeks to go now, but I do feel I’ve come a long in way in the past ten weeks so at this stage I’m quite confident of achieving the aim of running my second marathon. Think I might stay off the wine for a while though.

Running on fumes

John Lee Hooker, a blues legend of the old school, once sang One Bourbon, One Scotch and One Beer. Which could have been the theme tune my evening on Saturday if you added wine and tequila and multiplied it all by several times.
All of which meant that on Sunday, my 38th birthday, for the first time since Christmas this year, I failed to go out on a long run in the afternoon. I have wittered on several times on this blog about how I’ve been able to sink a bucket load of booze on a Saturday night and go out running on Sunday, to the extent that I even claimed to be able to run better as a result.
Well, not this weekend, the booze got real. It was as much as I could do to walk down the shop to buy a bag load of necessary junk food and a giant bottle of Lucozade to help me come round, without fainting with the effort. In first few seconds after opening my eyes on Sunday morning I had very little recollection of the previous evening’s events and thought I’d got away with it.
Luckily Amy was there to enlighten me and inform me of how I got home, as I had no recollection, and then on arrival at home threw off my coat before then walking over it and tripping on it. Then crawling to the toilet, where the customised porcelain edition of the iPhone was put to use, before I crawled up the stairs to bed. It’s not unreasonable to think that at 38 I’d know better by now, but sadly getting a year older doesn’t come with an automatic software update. Not yet at least.
Anyway, it was all good fun. However, on Monday morning I tentatively stepped on to the bathroom scales, which was a stupid idea, as it turns out less than two days of mildly excessive behaviour resulted in me putting on SEVEN POUNDS! A whole HALF A STONE! It took weeks to shift that and now the bugger’s back again within one 24 hour period.
So tonight I was pleased to get out in the deep freeze of this ongoing winter and managed to get a six mile run under my belt, running to what felt like every corner of Banbury to make up the miles. I was pleased considering the self-abuse at the weekend, and despite the fact that at times I thought I could feel the whiskey sweating out of me. Very much running on fumes, the fumes of Mr Jameson and I suspect one or two of his friends.

Running in the dark - stupid idea

Sometimes when I'm on the treadmill at the gym I consider closing my eyes so I can drift off and think of something more Zen to break up the tedium.
It's a stupid idea of course, as within a few seconds I would of course be spinning out of control more quickly than a Lib Dem press officer.
However it's not nearly as stupid, it turns out, as running along a narrow pavement alongside a busy A road in the dark. That is stupid.
So, I'm in Banbury tonight, for work, and I was keen to rack up a five mile run. Each morning I'd driven into the historic Oxfordshire town I'd noticed that the road coming out of Banbury has a pavement and would be ideal for a nice long run. What I didn't figure was that what looked like a great idea in the morning sunshine, was not such a great idea in the evening gloom and pitch dark.
So it was, as I ran out of Banbury tonight, I literally ran out of Banbury and found myself plodding along in the dark. Now, you'd think that would be the cue to turn around and head back to what passes as civilization. But oh no, I wanted to prove just how stupid I really can be by stumbling on for another mile or so. I thought that the light provided by the headlamps of the constant stream of cars would help to light my way, but then it dawned on me that running through rush hour traffic and all the Co2 that goes with it really wouldn't be beneficial and for all the good it did me I may as well have sat in the pub garden smoking a packet of fags.
I also realised that my black shorts, black running top and black cap would do little alert drivers to my presence on the roadside.
I turned back in the end because I'd reached 2.5 miles, so knew I could hit my five mile target, so it was for running reasons rather than health and safety. Although, I appreciate that having several broken bones as a result of getting hit by a car would do little to aid my ability to run.
But on the upside, I managed to get to five miles in just about an hour, and my Nike running app confirms what my RunKeeper reckons about my average speed, which is now 12mins 30 secs a mile, which is getting ever closer to the ten minute mile I'm aiming for.
So despite my unintended foray into extreme jogging, I'm pleased to be back in the hotel, with an array of tosh TV to choose from as I munch through my chicken and bacon sandwich, having avoided getting knocked down in the name of running.