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some old bullshit

Dickhead Running

I could not find the chorizo in the fridge this morning. I stood at the fridge door for a moment feeling puzzled before removing the turkey mince which I fried and ate with two eggs. I recall putting a small lump of chorizo back in the fridge but was that yesterday? I could not say for certain but I think it was, just before the 13 miles cliff path run. I am certain that I never thought, that’s all the chorizo gone then, at any point this week. This means either my wife has eaten it or it is behind something in the fridge. I will look properly tomorrow. Of the two eggs one had a much thinner shell and it instantly exploded on impact with the side of the pan but somehow no shell went into the mince. The second egg had a very hard shell and took three whacks. Amazing how two seemingly identical things could be so very different. I doubt they came from the same hen and although the jug on my coffee machine claimed to contain enough coffee for six cups in reality it was more like two and a half.

Today I did not go running. I did not. It is the first day in many weeks that I have not gone running but in my defence it has been drizzling constantly all day. The thought of running in the drizzle only began to appeal at 4pm but by then it was already growing dark. I will make up for today by running hard tomorrow although the weather forecast is for more drizzle. If that is the case I will go on the treadmill and do some repeats. I dislike drizzle with a passion. It really is the most stupid of rain.

My new Gore-Tex trainers arrived just after lunch of bacon and cheese and beetroot. ‘Asics Gel Lahar 5’ I believe they are called. I imagine a Lahar is a desert because it’s a bit like Sahara. I had ordered them online from the North East as I was sent a 10% off coupon in an email. I put them on immediately and then walked through puddles on the way to collect the children. The children liked my new shows which have bright green trim.

As the children ate their supper I stood over them, one hand braced against the wall and I did 25 knee raises. The children laughed but I gazed past them, out into the murk. I then turned and did the other leg. I hoped Jacob would not eat all of his sausages but he did. I am having pork in a dashi broth for tea. Before that I will do 25 more knee raises with each leg and perhaps some sit-ups. No, I won’t do any sit-ups as they hurt my coccyx.


The chorizo had all gone. I searched the fridge from top to bottom. I hadn’t expected to find it and on the bottom shelf towards the back I discovered some feta. It’s been a long time since we’ve eaten anything with feta in it. I believe it was a chicken breast stuffed with spinach and feta and wrapped in bacon. That was at least three weeks ago so I was wary as I unwrapped it. It was still as white as snow but smelled slightly stronger than freshly opened feta. I tried to crumble it into my turkey thigh mince I had frying in the pan but it was more slimy than crumbly. I considered finding my telephone a tweeting something about my feta being fetid but did not bother.

I cooked my turkey and egg and feta mixture longer than normal to kill any poison.

It was still drizzling but with less gusto that yesterday and as I ate my breakfast I decided to go running early. On Sunday Samuel and I ran 13 miles on the cliff paths. We ran slowly, soaking up the scenery but still the last three miles had been taxing. That was the last time I had run apart from a mile with the boy last night. On Sunday I had worn road shoes on the trails, he trail shoes, but both of us had slipped the same amount of times proving what? I do not know. It must have been Sunday morning that my wife ate the last of the chorizo. I was out running for an hour a forty minutes giving her plenty of opportunity.

It is very mild. 13 degrees according to the car also that also warned me of an engine malfunction when I started it. It started with an effort, as if the battery was flat, but it did start and I drove the long way to St Aubin where I was to start today’s run, to charge up the battery. Whilst driving the drizzle grew heavier which was disappointing but the extra two miles ensured my Garmin had locked onto a satellite by the time I’d parked.

I never run well the day after not running. My intention was to run quite hard but in the end my run would be best described as steady. My legs felt quite sore. I could feel the knee raises I started to do yesterday but I was pleased with that feeling. That pain suggests I need to do more knee raises.

I wore my longer shorts, my Asics Gel Piranhas, my Adidas cap and a garish Superdry T-shirt which was a hand-me-down from my nephew. Some hate it but I enjoy running in normal T-shirts. I enjoy the feeling when it’s heavy and soaked with sweat.

The first mile felt uncomfortable because I did not run yesterday and it took me 6:13. The second mile I felt more comfortable and that one took 6:12. The third mile included the turn where I run around the last shelter and that one took 6:19. Now I was on the way back towards my car and this part was a headwind. The whole front has shelters dotted at intervals of about 300 metres. One of them stinks of urine but the wind meant today I didn’t smell it. It was quite a stiff headwind it turned out, as I ran into it, although it hadn’t felt like much as it pushed me along. My now soaking T-shirt was pushed by the wind against my torso which made me feel self-conscious. Superdry? Quite the opposite! It told on my pace and the fourth mile took 6:38. I spent a lot of this mile looking at the drips of rain hanging from the peak of my cap. The fifth mile took 6:32 and then I pass the car park where I parked the car and do a small loop which includes a very steep hill at the back of the Somerville Hotel. Somebody was burning onions on that hill, probably in the hotel’s kitchens. It was not an unpleasant smell. I like onions but can never chop one. I can chop a quarter of an onion but then there is nothing to hold.

Although running up the hill is physically very demanding I enjoy it because it’s not mentally demanding. Unlike on the flat I do not have to force an effort on the hill, the hill forces effort from me. That sixth mile I completed in 6:52 and then all that was left was a third of a mile along the harbour and back to my starting point. I completed this at a pace of 6:16 mile.

Overall I was slightly disappointed with my pace which averaged at 6:27 minutes per mile for the 6.28 miles. The car started fine and as I drove home my glasses steamed up. My wife has left me a shopping list and yes, although I never mentioned it to her, chorizo is on that list. Proof if it were needed that she ate the last bit.


Yesterday the weather was perfect. There was hardly a breeze which is rare for Jersey and so I decided to run 13 miles. I was toying with running 15 miles as there’s a half marathon on Sunday and it would be better to to run further. Then I decided 15 miles was too far and I agreed with myself to run 13 although deep down I knew I only intended to run 10. You see I have a ten mile run from my house to the marina in town and back, this is ten miles. If I went further that way it would mean running through town, something I’m not prepared to do. If I want to go further I would need to get back back to my house and then run the last three miles the other way. I often think about doing this but have managed it perhaps once or twice as I normally think, ah, ten miles is enough, and stop when I get back near my house. It’s a better man than me that could run ten miles, get back near his house and then run further. It’s as if my house has a tractor beam.

13 miles I told myself but realistically I was going to run ten. In the end I ran 2 and a half miles.

It was one of those runs where my hat felt too tight and I couldn’t feel my arms. I really only enjoy running as fast as I can which means a distance of 3-6 miles. Anything further I don’t enjoy it. I don’t know what to do. To not go as fast as I can? What’s the point? I ask myself after a mile or so and this is what happened. The first mile I was thinking, this is not stressing me at all, but it wasn’t stressing me in a bad way, not a good way, you should feel something when you run or else it’s weird and out of bodyish. The next mile my hat felt too tight and I couldn’t feel my arms but I thought I might get into it.

That’s another thing I tell myself, like how I might run 13 miles, I tell myself if I don’t feel good on a run I might get into it, I might start to feel better. This has never once happened. If I feel bad at the start then I will feel worse with each step. Worse and further away from home. Yesterday I just stopped at 2 and a half miles and then I started to sweat. I thought I might be dying. I walked home and decided I’d drunk too much coffee. I drink too much coffee.

I got home and went shopping. At the shop an old person was pawing the apples, turning each over in her hands. I told her she should buy the less that perfect fruit, otherwise the African farmers starve. I’d seen that on the news. She just left the apples and then I took all the perfect ones because I’m not eating maggoty apples. I usually dig down to the layer of apples as yet un-pawed  by old people.

During the day I considered not doing the half marathon. I want to run a 34 min ten kilometres. I have no interest in distances further than 6.2 miles. There isn’t a ten kilometre race for a couple of months.

In the evening I decided to have another go at running. I decided to run my favourite 3 mile run wearing my favourite shoes, my Asics Pirahnas. I still felt a bit ill but the weather was too good to miss. I ate two teaspoons of peanut butter and drove to the Hamburger stand where I start. The traffic was bad and on the way I ate three Star Bursts. The Star Bursts had been in the car for a while and were difficult to unwrap and sticky. I prefer Haribo. I was wearing a yellow Superdry T-shirt with the sleeves cut off to make it a vest, my blue running shorts (short) and my Adidas cap that that morning had felt too tight. I looked good but still felt bad.

My fucking computer just restarted itself! Peice of shit.

I got out the car and walked to the bit where the tarmac changes colour which is where I time myself from. I didn’t feel great but I started running and then I did feel great. I felt great. I never check my pace while running but I knew I was running fast. I caught and passed a cyclist. I adore the noise Asics Piranhas make when they strike the pavement, there are a lot of voids in the sole which cause a drumming sound. They feel like ballet slippers. I got to the turn still feeling great, it’s only a mile and a half but sometimes it seems to take ages to get there. Usually the second mile and a half is a struggle but not yesterday. I pushed even harder on the way back and could feel I wasn’t slowing. When I could see the finish I ran harder still. I asked myself if I’d slow down if running the last few hundred metres so hard would kill me. It will kill me one day. I smoke, drink too much wine and coffee and eat nothing but turkey and pork and Haribo. I ran that last bit as hard as I could.

I did the three miles in 16:27 which is as fast as I can run when not in a race. The last mile was the fastest and I felt like a God.

I decided I would do the half marathon on Sunday, even if only for training and then I played some Sports Club Tennis on the Nintendo WiiU while the children cheered me. During the game my ankle felt broken and I couldn’t put any weight on it. Then it sort of went away. I think it was a trapped nerve.


I didn’t run today apart from 1500 with the boy. It’s too windy and I was going to go on the treadmill in the garage instead but I hate the treadmill and instead I went on the turbo trainer for 35 mins in 53×14. I was going to do it for 50 minutes but I felt a bit shaky. As I was on it I pretended I was Chris Froome climbing Mont Ventoux. Before going on the turbo I had to change the inner tube in the front tyre because when I was trying to inflate (or blow up) it yesterday half of the valve went shooting out and I couldn’t find it. Luckily I had a spare tube. I also had some tubes with Shrader valves and that made me think about Breaking Bad. I thought that if Walt hadn’t PRESTA Detective SHRADER so hard he’d probably still be alive. It’s a great double valve joke. I must remember it. It’s a shame there isn’t a valve called a Gustavo Fring. Maybe there is. He certainly blew up!


That’s an important tool, visualisation. You gotta picture how your race is going to pan out and then it’s more likely to happen. Friday night I had a sore throat and my ankle wasn’t working again. Don’t know what’s up with my ankle. Sometimes I can’t put any weight on it and then after a while it goes okay. So Saturday I was visualizing the half marathon. I saw myself stopping and limping after 50 metres and then getting booed. I thought about not going. I’d wanted to try and run sub 1 hour 20 minutes. I’ve run more than 9 and half miles only once in the last few months but still thought it was possible.

My cold didn’t get any worse, just a sore throat and throughout the day my ankle stopped hurting but I didn’t run on Saturday and that night as I was deciding what shorts to wear I did more visualization. I pictured the first mile, I’d be fine in that mile and the second mile. I didn’t bother visualizing the middle bit of the race because it goes on a bit but I could picture the last two or three miles. I could picture people catching me and running past me and disappearing into the distance. That’s what always happens. I’m used to it.

Sunday morning was chilly. I could still feel my ankle and had sticky snot so I took two Day Nurse tablets with my turkey thigh mince and eggs. I initially wore a base-layer but walking to the car I decided it wasn’t that cold and came back and got changed and then went down to the start at the FB Fields.

I decided to wear gloves as gloves and a running vest look pro as fuck. I wore my Saucony ProGrid Type A5s, those weird shorts and a my favourite yellow Adidas vest. And a cap.

The race started and I felt pretty good actually. I was with the fast guys for the first mile. And the the second. I was the only one with the fast guys at the end of the second mile which was all uphill and I was thinking that I must take Day Nurse before all races. Then the three leaders started to pull away but I didn’t fall apart, I felt I was running pretty good. I couldn’t hear anybody clapping for people behind me so I knew I had a bit of a gap. And this went on for the next 8 miles. At about ten miles I’d expected everybody to run past me. I’d visualized it. And then I heard the footsteps and a woman ran past me at about 100mph. I wanted to stop and walk just then but I thought, fuck it. And carried on running. I was still feeling okay. I was going as fast as I could. The woman was going much faster but I wasn’t walking and then I was back at the FB Fields. There was a lap of the running track to finish. In the last 100 metres some other guy came running past me. That was annoying. What’s the point of sprinting for 5th? And then I’d finished and looked at my watch. 1hr20 and 4 seconds. That was more annoying. I could probably have run four seconds quicker had I looked at my watch.

Cold’s worse today but at least that Half Marathon is out of the way and the next races are all 5-10ks. I fucking love 10ks. Don’t like Half Marathons.