On Friday night we watched the classic movie that is Closing Distance. It's been over a year since we've looked at it. How things have changed in such a short time! Best bit was seeing a 7yo No3 son.
We noticed that The Runner kept using the word "tough" to describe each stage. So here's a competition to help fill the hours you're not running this week. How many times does The Runner say the word "tough" throughout the film? Just him, no one else.
Leave your guess in the comments and I'll announce the winner after the race next week. I'll think of a suitable prize and present it at the BBQ if the winner is there or I'll get it to you somehow.
Sunday, 14 June 2009
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
In my defence......
Somehow I feel the need to explain myself. Whenever the subject of race t-shirts comes up, runners get very defensive. I have no problem at all with keeping t-shirts from significant races. They are a tangible reminder of a target/ambition achieved. Heck, I was even wearing my NYC Marathon t-shirt from 2002 the other day (in fact my finishers medal is hanging up in the bedroom!) But I do have a problem with hanging onto a t-shirt that's way past even having value as a cleaning rag!
Since The Runner runs at lunchtime during the week, his smelly wet kit is stuffed into a plastic bag (don't get me started on his obsession with keeping 'good' plastic bags!) for at least 7 or 8 hours before he comes homes and puts it in the laundry bin. This contributes greatly to the deterioration of cotton fabric. And since I refuse to wash his running kit with normal laundry, his 1 t-shirt, 1 pair of shorts/pants/socks and towel used each day might not get washed for a couple of days. Hence the need for a large amount of running kit. Again, I don't have a problem with that.
But he never throws anything out. Holes in your socks? Buy a new pair. Shorts got a rip in the seams? Buy new ones. BUT THROW THE OLD ONES OUT!!!! The only reason he agreed to throw out them out on Monday was that his 18 (EIGHTEEN) drawers wouldn't close!
Cruel? I don't think so. Waiting until next Thursday and telling him I've got alternative plans for the weekend would be cruel!
Since The Runner runs at lunchtime during the week, his smelly wet kit is stuffed into a plastic bag (don't get me started on his obsession with keeping 'good' plastic bags!) for at least 7 or 8 hours before he comes homes and puts it in the laundry bin. This contributes greatly to the deterioration of cotton fabric. And since I refuse to wash his running kit with normal laundry, his 1 t-shirt, 1 pair of shorts/pants/socks and towel used each day might not get washed for a couple of days. Hence the need for a large amount of running kit. Again, I don't have a problem with that.
But he never throws anything out. Holes in your socks? Buy a new pair. Shorts got a rip in the seams? Buy new ones. BUT THROW THE OLD ONES OUT!!!! The only reason he agreed to throw out them out on Monday was that his 18 (EIGHTEEN) drawers wouldn't close!
Cruel? I don't think so. Waiting until next Thursday and telling him I've got alternative plans for the weekend would be cruel!
Monday, 8 June 2009
Woohoo, at last!
I've been trying to get The Runner to clear out his manky running stuff for several years now. Today, on a rare holiday, he decided he wanted to get his possible race gear in some sort of order. Naturally I offered to 'help' him with my roll of black bags in hand.
This is the resulting pile of t-shirts that made it into my throwing out pile. At last I was able to get rid of that t-shirt from the Dublin Marathon in 1997 that is older than No3 son! There are a few London marathon t-shirts in there, as well as some Troon 10k ones that are falling apart at the seams. I guess they don't hold the same sentiments for him any more now he's an ultra runner.
This is the keeping pile (which frankly would have been a lot smaller if I'd had my way but hey, I'll take the disposal of the manky t-shirts as consolation!)
This is the resulting pile of t-shirts that made it into my throwing out pile. At last I was able to get rid of that t-shirt from the Dublin Marathon in 1997 that is older than No3 son! There are a few London marathon t-shirts in there, as well as some Troon 10k ones that are falling apart at the seams. I guess they don't hold the same sentiments for him any more now he's an ultra runner.
This is the keeping pile (which frankly would have been a lot smaller if I'd had my way but hey, I'll take the disposal of the manky t-shirts as consolation!)-
His pile of keeping stuff consists of:
His pile of keeping stuff consists of:
7 Tracksters (no pockets)
3 Tracksters (with pockets)
-
1 waterproof jacket
1 waterproof jacket
1 waterproof trousers
-
6 adventure tops (ie tops which are not Helly, summer tops or long sleeved)
2 waterproof jackets (that are the size of a tennis ball when folded into their pouch)
1 windproof vest (ditto)
-
8 summer tops
3 long sleeved summer tops
-
4 long sleeved Hellys
3 short sleeved Hellys
2 Icebreakers
-
9 vests (including 1 Strathearn Harriers, 1 Central and 1 Troon Tortoises)
2 pairs Skins (shorts)
2 pairs cycling shorts
3 pairs shorts
-
6 Buffs
1 pair running gloves
2 woolly hats
1 high visibility vest and.................
-
only 30 t-shirts! Woohoo!!
-
One thing that did surprise me was the level of crumpledness of most of his stuff. I wash it, iron it and fold it so I know it looks good before he puts it away. No idea what happens to it between then and him wearing it. If you ever notice he's a bit crumpled looking, ask him how he manages it!
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Race food
Mmmm, rice pudding, beans, jelly babies, coffee, smoothie and magic soup all mixed together. Would you eat this on a normal day? No? Then why does The Runner think it is a good idea to eat all this at each checkpoint on race day? Is it any wonder he is frequently sick in the first few minutes after leaving me? And when you add in energy gels and water all sloshing about in his insides....... Yeuch!
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Bizarre Conversation No 1
Him: When I went to bed last night I had a nail on that toe.
Me: Hmm.
Him: When I got up this morning it was gone.
Me: What do you mean gone?
Him: It just wasn't there. I checked in the bed and on the floor and it's definitely gone.
Me: Uhuh. And what do you want me to do?
Him: If you find it save it for me.
Eeuww!
Me: Hmm.
Him: When I got up this morning it was gone.
Me: What do you mean gone?
Him: It just wasn't there. I checked in the bed and on the floor and it's definitely gone.
Me: Uhuh. And what do you want me to do?
Him: If you find it save it for me.
Eeuww!
Friday, 15 May 2009
Bad Wife
Hello! Is it that time already? You know, time to think, talk, plan, breath and eat the WHW Race. Time to tell tales, relaunch Blog Wars and generally get my own way for a few brief weeks because The Runner is pathetically grateful for my back up and support.
Blimey, I remember when there was only 1 ultra event talked about in this house. Now it feels like there's 1 a month! Tomorrow is the Cateran Trail and I am a Bad Wife. I put my foot down and said I did not want to give up another weekend to provide back up for yet another event. So what did The Runner do? He's roped in an old family friend who lives practically on the route and persuaded her to hang around for hours and supply him with coffee and jelly babies. I just hope he's not as rude to her as he is to me!
But I think I can live with being a Bad Wife. I've washed his running gear, baked a banana loaf and got Mr Tesco to deliver his beans, rice and jelly babies. I've got him a bottle of nice wine and a lovely bunch of flowers to take to his friend. I can go swanning round the garden centre and have tea and cake in the cafe with a clear conscience. Or at least I hope I can.
Blimey, I remember when there was only 1 ultra event talked about in this house. Now it feels like there's 1 a month! Tomorrow is the Cateran Trail and I am a Bad Wife. I put my foot down and said I did not want to give up another weekend to provide back up for yet another event. So what did The Runner do? He's roped in an old family friend who lives practically on the route and persuaded her to hang around for hours and supply him with coffee and jelly babies. I just hope he's not as rude to her as he is to me!
But I think I can live with being a Bad Wife. I've washed his running gear, baked a banana loaf and got Mr Tesco to deliver his beans, rice and jelly babies. I've got him a bottle of nice wine and a lovely bunch of flowers to take to his friend. I can go swanning round the garden centre and have tea and cake in the cafe with a clear conscience. Or at least I hope I can.
Tuesday, 11 November 2008
Nice to Cannes Marathon Part Une
I wasn't planning to write in this blog again for a while but like the title says we ventured into France for a marathon. So many things happened to us over the weekend I felt it merited a blog post!
We set off on Friday morning with our good friends The Doctor and his wife The Lady Doctor to visit The Runner's brother (Cool Dude) in Antibes. Now if you're not familar with French geography, Antibes is halfway between Nice and Cannes. It's a very beautiful part of France where the rich and famous flock in their thousands. Cool Dude had informed The Runner earlier this year that there was a new marathon being held. It was a perfect opportunity to catch up and also run in a new event.
Edinburgh was dull and dreich when we left. We landed at London City to catch our connecting flight to Nice only to find that it had been cancelled. No problem we thought. We're flying with British Airways, they'll look after us. Nuh huh! After being told it was a technical problem (ie probably not enough passengers on the flight!) we were informed we would be sent to Heathrow and put on a flight from there. They couldn't guarantee us seats or that the flight would wait for us. We then had to wait for other passengers to arrive and discover the same news. This was when the fun began!
As we were waiting a French couple arrived. To say that they were not happy was an understatement. At first they were both yelling in English and French at the guy on the desk, then at the poor girl who was to escort us and then at each other. Bizarrely, although they were French they spoke to each other in English. All six of us were put in a very nice leather seated chaffeur driven people carrier. The French guy sat in the front and spent the entire journey on his phone to BA Customer Support Services.
The driver took us through the centre of London past every major landmark in the city. It was fantastic (although we only saw the back of Buckingham Palace!) Between The Runner (who worked in London for a year) and the French lady (who had lived in London for 12 years with 'er 'usband) we had a commentary of where we were. The French lady turned out to be quite entertaining but could talk for Britain (and France!) The Runner and The Doctor began to amuse themselves by texting each other while The Lady Doctor and I listened to her. Meanwhile in the background 'er 'usband was yelling at a succession of 'well trained robots.' At one point he yelled 'You are not too busy. I can 'ear laughing in the background. Stand up from your seat and look for your supervisor.' By the end of the journey he had gained a £50 voucher off his next flight. He dramatically announced 'I shall be putting it in the bin.' His wife said 'It's ok, he's 'alf Italian.'
We arrived at Heathrow in one piece and in time. Unfortunately the check in woman was really snotty. No, we couldn't get any compensation, no we couldn't sit in the Executive Lounge (It's not policy!), no she didn't know or care why our flight was cancelled and no we couldn't sit together as the flight was full. No, we didn't like her either. And yes the French/Italian guy was complaining at the check in desk!
The flight itself was ok (I'm not a good flier) but I was sandwiched between 2 French guys (father and son) who didn't want to sit together but spent the whole flight talking over me! It's shocking how 5 years of school French is totally useless in the real world. I managed to speak a few words (like agreeing that announcements should also be in French) but was completely stuck when they replied to me. My feeble 'Je parle francais un peu mais je ne comprende pas quand vous parlez vite' elicted a response in near perfect English from the younger guy. Strangely I can read French newspapers/signs/instructions and get the gist and I can read a menu no problem. I just can't speak the damned language.
Since we were on a later flight, Cool Dude was able to pick us up. This saved us the embarassment of trying to get a taxi although The Lady Doctor speaks pretty good French so it might have been ok. So all 4 of us plus our luggage squeezed into his Renault 5 and set off for our adventure in France.
We set off on Friday morning with our good friends The Doctor and his wife The Lady Doctor to visit The Runner's brother (Cool Dude) in Antibes. Now if you're not familar with French geography, Antibes is halfway between Nice and Cannes. It's a very beautiful part of France where the rich and famous flock in their thousands. Cool Dude had informed The Runner earlier this year that there was a new marathon being held. It was a perfect opportunity to catch up and also run in a new event.
Edinburgh was dull and dreich when we left. We landed at London City to catch our connecting flight to Nice only to find that it had been cancelled. No problem we thought. We're flying with British Airways, they'll look after us. Nuh huh! After being told it was a technical problem (ie probably not enough passengers on the flight!) we were informed we would be sent to Heathrow and put on a flight from there. They couldn't guarantee us seats or that the flight would wait for us. We then had to wait for other passengers to arrive and discover the same news. This was when the fun began!
As we were waiting a French couple arrived. To say that they were not happy was an understatement. At first they were both yelling in English and French at the guy on the desk, then at the poor girl who was to escort us and then at each other. Bizarrely, although they were French they spoke to each other in English. All six of us were put in a very nice leather seated chaffeur driven people carrier. The French guy sat in the front and spent the entire journey on his phone to BA Customer Support Services.
The driver took us through the centre of London past every major landmark in the city. It was fantastic (although we only saw the back of Buckingham Palace!) Between The Runner (who worked in London for a year) and the French lady (who had lived in London for 12 years with 'er 'usband) we had a commentary of where we were. The French lady turned out to be quite entertaining but could talk for Britain (and France!) The Runner and The Doctor began to amuse themselves by texting each other while The Lady Doctor and I listened to her. Meanwhile in the background 'er 'usband was yelling at a succession of 'well trained robots.' At one point he yelled 'You are not too busy. I can 'ear laughing in the background. Stand up from your seat and look for your supervisor.' By the end of the journey he had gained a £50 voucher off his next flight. He dramatically announced 'I shall be putting it in the bin.' His wife said 'It's ok, he's 'alf Italian.'
We arrived at Heathrow in one piece and in time. Unfortunately the check in woman was really snotty. No, we couldn't get any compensation, no we couldn't sit in the Executive Lounge (It's not policy!), no she didn't know or care why our flight was cancelled and no we couldn't sit together as the flight was full. No, we didn't like her either. And yes the French/Italian guy was complaining at the check in desk!
The flight itself was ok (I'm not a good flier) but I was sandwiched between 2 French guys (father and son) who didn't want to sit together but spent the whole flight talking over me! It's shocking how 5 years of school French is totally useless in the real world. I managed to speak a few words (like agreeing that announcements should also be in French) but was completely stuck when they replied to me. My feeble 'Je parle francais un peu mais je ne comprende pas quand vous parlez vite' elicted a response in near perfect English from the younger guy. Strangely I can read French newspapers/signs/instructions and get the gist and I can read a menu no problem. I just can't speak the damned language.
Since we were on a later flight, Cool Dude was able to pick us up. This saved us the embarassment of trying to get a taxi although The Lady Doctor speaks pretty good French so it might have been ok. So all 4 of us plus our luggage squeezed into his Renault 5 and set off for our adventure in France.
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