The Walker With Heart

It was as if I was possessed by the spirit of Buster Keaton (younger readers, I suggest Wiki or YouTube )... Slapshit could be the new comedy genre... But that's getting ahead of myself... The plan was 5 miles... Up and over a not particularly pleasant hill, around the park, back over the hill and Bob's your auntie! However, running into the park, I trod in dog muck... Fine, I'll run on the grass, to clean my shoes off... Reach the grass... Small yappy dog starts bounding around me (no owner to be seen)... sticks its nose in the back of my knee, causing my leg to buckle... My hand goes down and straight into another pile of dog crap... I try and stand up, dog still yapping around ankles and my other foot slips, and I drag my legs through more dog shit... I now lock like I've had a severe case of the Paula Radcliffe's... And I'm a choice, run around to the sports centre and try and sort myself out, or jog the 3 km back to the office... Avoiding eye contact wit

The job now is to carry on, not to do what I did after the Edinburgh Marathon and rest on my laurels and loose the gains I'd made (that 2:30 half marathon is tantalising close). The week has been one of rest, stretch, recuperation, sports massage ( thanks Gina , it hurt but helped!), climb (as a stretch - and push the grade at a 6b top rope) and do a gentle walk. So this week I carry on; trying to get out at lunchtime at work for 5km or 5miles, pushing the climbing, get a doctor's note so I can get a personalised programme at the gym (I love the insurance industry), and generally keep it up. The aim? Well, I always said that this would be a year of challenges, and dear friend has thrown the weight loss one into the mix - to be fair I asked them to help - as a stone off before the Belfast Marathon would be rather useful. And there's a couple of runs I'm looking at... As I seem to have all the abilities at swimming as a block of concrete tri's don't float my bo

Did it, finished it, completed it, got the T-shirt, got the medal... as ever heard the spinning of my PE teachers (and a few cardiologists) in their graves as someone with Fallots dared to believe they could try, and complete, a marathon... or two, or three... The race itself wasn't particularly good, those ultra-supportive of the company that puts these runs on in Liverpool will say that its was the first time and there's bound to be teething trouble... Which is acceptable to a point, that point is when they forget some of the field... What makes runs great, and I've checked with some others, isn't the pace of the front runner (unless they truly are one of the greats) is the heart and sheer guts of the last ones across the line. The 3+ hour half marathoners, the 7+ hour marathoners. Treat these people as you would the champions, the winners, and all will feel great. I will always be a back of the pack runner, and I've been the last one across the line in races, a

The magazine was the one with the irradiate poison - also known as the Red Fleece of Doom... So 4 rejections from 4 attempts at the London Marathon ballot. London has a special attraction, and like the Great North Run has that element of "event" rather than "run". Which is why I liked the look of the Belfast Marathon - I love Belfast as a city, its a quicker commute than London, and I'm in, paid for, with flights booked all for less than the train fare to London. All of which is great, but by this time next week I'll have run another Marathon - my home one, in Liverpool - well starting on the Wirral ... Through the Mersey Tunnel... Up and up out of the tunnel and up to the Cathedrals ... Around the parks And I should be back for a late lunch... I've had the protein heavy meal, the rest of the week is pasta, veg, hydration drinks and keeping myself ok ... As for the end of Sunday, all I can say is.... THERE WILL BE PIE! TTFN Paul