The last time I ran for 10 kilometres without stopping was 29 years ago. It was an organised event and I ran it with my friend Fraser Maclennon-Pike somewhere in the North of Leeds. Probably around Horsforth area where he was living at the time (he lives in Australia now). We both ran it in our school rugby shirts which didn't work out too well for me, since the shirt should have been handed back to the school a couple of weeks before at the end of term. By sheer coincidence on the run we ran past our Rugby Master Jim Collard's house, and he spotted me out of his window wearing the shirt and asked me for it back the following Monday. I might have been wanting to keep it as a souvenir.
At the time of that run I was nearly 18 and from memory I ran the 10K in around 47 minutes, although I no longer have the medal or certificate to prove it.
I'm now almost 47 years old, a fact which astounds me on a regular basis, because being 18 seems like it happened only a couple of weeks ago. For some reason, this morning when I woke up, my current age seemed even more unbelievable than normal.
I've been running 5K at my local Parkrun pretty regularly since last May (I've done 26 so far), and since I started my PB has dropped by over 11 minutes from almost 36 on my first attempt to under 25 now.
Until recently I thought that 5K was probably as far as I could run in one go, but that was because I usually finish feeling like death, after trying to beat my PB every week. Anyway, I recently discovered, that if I just slowed down a bit, I could potentially run further.
It's International Women's Day today, and some ladies I know (one in particular, Joy) are running either a Marathon or 10K today in Palma, Mallorca. Not only that but they're being followed round and filmed on the event by some documentary makers from Channel 5. I guess Channel 5 must be moving away from its reliance on stories about people who can't leave their house without being winched out through the windows.
Anyway, I can't be there, but I hit upon the idea of coming out in sympathy by running a 10K myself on the same day. Because I'm not 18 anymore, I thought trying to run 10K in 47 minutes might result in my sudden death, so I thought I'd aim for about an hour.
As I've got to go to a child's birthday party at lunchtime, I thought I'd better start early and go out at 6.30 am. I planned a route of exactly 10K which would see me finish by running along the drive to Temple Newsam House, and so I was all set. Except I didn't have anything in for breakfast, so I didn't have any, and then I decided to ignore the route I'd planned and improvise a new one instead.
Around the time I ran my last 10K in 1986, I was studying Italian Unification as part of my History A Level. Apart from the fact that biscuits were invented during that period in History (See Garibaldi) I only remember one thing from that time, and it was a quotation from Camillo, Count of Cavour which said that 'All plans, all projects are useless, everything depends on an accident'. He was saying it to suggest that he wasn't unifying Italy on purpose, it was all just happening accidentally. Well, in the spirit of that, as soon as I started running this morning, I threw my plan out the window and just started running in all directions.
I ran past all my childhood houses (well ages 3 to 22, I don't remember much before 3), including the shop where my dad died and my brother was born, I ran past my first two schools, I ran past Joyce Charlton's house (she's dead now, like my mum) where I watched the 1975 European Cup Final (Bayern Munich 2 Leeds United 0) on a colour TV. I ran past the tennis courts I used to play on as a teenager, I ran through most of the streets of my paper round, I ran past the Working Mens' Club where the awards night used to be for the football team I played for, and past lots of other places which had childhood memories associated with them. Then, after I'd done about 3 and a half miles of nostalgia I ran out of Garforth completely, and started following a bridleway in the direction of Cross Gates, where I had my first job, and where I almost got arrested once for being the kingpin in a strategic shoplifting operation (which was only true in a policeman's head, who added 2 and 2 and got 47).
At around the 5 mile or 8 kilometre mark I was blocked from continuing on the bridleway I was running on and diverted into an industrial estate where I got a bit lost for 10 minutes (I don't think this happens on the organised events). This and the fact that I'd discarded my planned route and already ran around in some extra circles meant I was never going to get to Temple Newsam within 10K. Just as I was nearing the 10K mark, I managed to stumble out of the industrial estate, and into a retail park, where amongst other things, there was a Sainsbury's and a McDonalds.
I'd planned to run my 10K within an hour, but my Garmin works in miles and I wasn't sure of the exact conversion, so I thought I'd better run at least 6.4 miles to be sure. 6.4 miles and exactly one hour's running took me to McDonald's front door, and as I hadn't had any breakfast (please note Lisa Vercelli, I didn't warm up either, all very bad form) I thought I'd better stop there.
here's what Strava had to say on the matter!
I only really wanted a coffee and some orange juice, but I thought I'd better eat some food in case I fell over later from malnutrition, so after queuing up behind a load of builder men, who didn't look like they were doing anything connected with International Womens' Day, I asked the very pleasant girl behind the counter if she had any of that rubber food that they use to decorate dining tables in Ikea, and she said that luckily they did. So she gave me some food made of rubber (officially it was called a McMuffin), which in turn reminded me of my racist boss at TSB, who used to regularly act out the following conversation between waiter and customer at a Chinese restaurant:
Customer: Excuse me waiter, this chicken's rubbery...
Waiter: Oh, thank you velly much...
I used to like playing with those really bouncy little rubber balls when I was younger, and I did think about slamming the McMuffin into the tiled floor to see how high it would bounce, but there was a man mopping the floor and I didn't want to upset him, so I just ate it.
After I'd eaten the rubber food, and drunk my orange juice, I then had to have my coffee to go, so that I could get to Cross Gates station in order to catch the 08:22 train back to Garforth where I'd left my car, so I tried to drink it while walking, out of one of those tops with the hole in, which was a bit burny.
So that's the story of my tribute to International Womens' Day, and in particular to the women who are running either a Marathon or a 10K in Palma today, and it's also the story of my first 10K run for 29 years.
The preparation wasn't ideal, running a flat out 25:22 5K yesterday, and then having no breakfast, and doing it solo and then disregarding the route, and then getting lost in an industrial park, and then finishing at a shop that sells rubber food instead of on the leafy drive of a stately home.
But that's what you get for being a total amateur, which is what I am! I hope the ladies in Palma not only succeed but also do it with a bit more style!!
 |
| Here's me running at top speed in the Park! |
I'm now almost 47 years old, a fact which astounds me on a regular basis, because being 18 seems like it happened only a couple of weeks ago. For some reason, this morning when I woke up, my current age seemed even more unbelievable than normal.
I've been running 5K at my local Parkrun pretty regularly since last May (I've done 26 so far), and since I started my PB has dropped by over 11 minutes from almost 36 on my first attempt to under 25 now.
Until recently I thought that 5K was probably as far as I could run in one go, but that was because I usually finish feeling like death, after trying to beat my PB every week. Anyway, I recently discovered, that if I just slowed down a bit, I could potentially run further.
It's International Women's Day today, and some ladies I know (one in particular, Joy) are running either a Marathon or 10K today in Palma, Mallorca. Not only that but they're being followed round and filmed on the event by some documentary makers from Channel 5. I guess Channel 5 must be moving away from its reliance on stories about people who can't leave their house without being winched out through the windows.
Anyway, I can't be there, but I hit upon the idea of coming out in sympathy by running a 10K myself on the same day. Because I'm not 18 anymore, I thought trying to run 10K in 47 minutes might result in my sudden death, so I thought I'd aim for about an hour.
As I've got to go to a child's birthday party at lunchtime, I thought I'd better start early and go out at 6.30 am. I planned a route of exactly 10K which would see me finish by running along the drive to Temple Newsam House, and so I was all set. Except I didn't have anything in for breakfast, so I didn't have any, and then I decided to ignore the route I'd planned and improvise a new one instead.
Around the time I ran my last 10K in 1986, I was studying Italian Unification as part of my History A Level. Apart from the fact that biscuits were invented during that period in History (See Garibaldi) I only remember one thing from that time, and it was a quotation from Camillo, Count of Cavour which said that 'All plans, all projects are useless, everything depends on an accident'. He was saying it to suggest that he wasn't unifying Italy on purpose, it was all just happening accidentally. Well, in the spirit of that, as soon as I started running this morning, I threw my plan out the window and just started running in all directions.
I ran past all my childhood houses (well ages 3 to 22, I don't remember much before 3), including the shop where my dad died and my brother was born, I ran past my first two schools, I ran past Joyce Charlton's house (she's dead now, like my mum) where I watched the 1975 European Cup Final (Bayern Munich 2 Leeds United 0) on a colour TV. I ran past the tennis courts I used to play on as a teenager, I ran through most of the streets of my paper round, I ran past the Working Mens' Club where the awards night used to be for the football team I played for, and past lots of other places which had childhood memories associated with them. Then, after I'd done about 3 and a half miles of nostalgia I ran out of Garforth completely, and started following a bridleway in the direction of Cross Gates, where I had my first job, and where I almost got arrested once for being the kingpin in a strategic shoplifting operation (which was only true in a policeman's head, who added 2 and 2 and got 47).
At around the 5 mile or 8 kilometre mark I was blocked from continuing on the bridleway I was running on and diverted into an industrial estate where I got a bit lost for 10 minutes (I don't think this happens on the organised events). This and the fact that I'd discarded my planned route and already ran around in some extra circles meant I was never going to get to Temple Newsam within 10K. Just as I was nearing the 10K mark, I managed to stumble out of the industrial estate, and into a retail park, where amongst other things, there was a Sainsbury's and a McDonalds.
I'd planned to run my 10K within an hour, but my Garmin works in miles and I wasn't sure of the exact conversion, so I thought I'd better run at least 6.4 miles to be sure. 6.4 miles and exactly one hour's running took me to McDonald's front door, and as I hadn't had any breakfast (please note Lisa Vercelli, I didn't warm up either, all very bad form) I thought I'd better stop there.
here's what Strava had to say on the matter!
I only really wanted a coffee and some orange juice, but I thought I'd better eat some food in case I fell over later from malnutrition, so after queuing up behind a load of builder men, who didn't look like they were doing anything connected with International Womens' Day, I asked the very pleasant girl behind the counter if she had any of that rubber food that they use to decorate dining tables in Ikea, and she said that luckily they did. So she gave me some food made of rubber (officially it was called a McMuffin), which in turn reminded me of my racist boss at TSB, who used to regularly act out the following conversation between waiter and customer at a Chinese restaurant:
Customer: Excuse me waiter, this chicken's rubbery...
Waiter: Oh, thank you velly much...
I used to like playing with those really bouncy little rubber balls when I was younger, and I did think about slamming the McMuffin into the tiled floor to see how high it would bounce, but there was a man mopping the floor and I didn't want to upset him, so I just ate it.
After I'd eaten the rubber food, and drunk my orange juice, I then had to have my coffee to go, so that I could get to Cross Gates station in order to catch the 08:22 train back to Garforth where I'd left my car, so I tried to drink it while walking, out of one of those tops with the hole in, which was a bit burny.
So that's the story of my tribute to International Womens' Day, and in particular to the women who are running either a Marathon or a 10K in Palma today, and it's also the story of my first 10K run for 29 years.
The preparation wasn't ideal, running a flat out 25:22 5K yesterday, and then having no breakfast, and doing it solo and then disregarding the route, and then getting lost in an industrial park, and then finishing at a shop that sells rubber food instead of on the leafy drive of a stately home.
But that's what you get for being a total amateur, which is what I am! I hope the ladies in Palma not only succeed but also do it with a bit more style!!
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