Wednesday 2 November 2011

Dublin Marathon


A week before the race was due to take place I developed a heavy cold and for a while I thought I might not be able to participate. I knew that as long as I didn't have a temperature I'd take part even if I had to walk most of it. However, by the time race day arrived I was feeling a whole lot better. The first half of the race went by in less than two hours but I was already beginning to sag and the rest of the race became a matter of survival. There were some lovely moments. I was amused by three signs. Where else but in Ireland would you read "Run like you're late for Mass". One attractive girl held a sign saying, "You're all Kenyans to me". Needless to say, the Kenyans cleaned up in the elite race. Another sign read, "Toenails are overrated". Any runner will know the significance of that: I now sport three black toenails on my left foot. The weather had been sunny in Dublin until race day. The first three and a half hours of my race were not too bad - just the occasional shower. But in the last hour the heavens opened. Despite that, the crowds came out and cheered us on. I do so appreciate these people - my name was on my racing bib thanks to Ama from Afrikids, which I'd used for my last marathon in Edinburgh, and the number of times I heard, "Come on, Bob" or "Fair play to you Bob" was uncountable. I ran a lot of the time next to a man wearing nothing but a pair of running shoes and a thong. He had "Good Luck" written on his buttocks. There were 15,000 of us running - from 51 different countries. Our hotel was full of Italians. It was the biggest show in town and afterwards, when I went to enjoy plenty of the black stuff, some pubs were discounting drinks for those wearing their medals. Even though I was a lot slower than last year, I know that my cold had probably cost me at least 15 minutes - I came in at 4 hours 27 minutes. But I feel a great sense of achievement and am glad that I've been able to raise more than £1300 for Afrikids so far and am hopeful for more.

Tuesday 20 September 2011

Marathon

Began the 9th week of my training for October 31st's Dublin Marathon with a three-hour run, approximately 20 miles. Went well but was glad of a massage aterwards. I'm running for a purpose. Next April I'm one of a small team that aims to drive a couple of ambulances from Southampton to Bolgatanga in the north of Ghana. This will mean driving through France, Spain, Morocco, Western Sahara, Mauritania, Senegal, Mali, Burkina Faso and Ghana. We expect it to take three weeks. We'll pay our own costs but we need to raise money for the ambulances themselves and everything else including fuel to get us there. Please donate if you can, however small. There are hardly any doctors in the area and the number of people who turn up dead on arrival at the hospital because they had no ambulance to bring them is unnacceptably high. You can donate at http://www.justgiving.com/Ambulances-to-Africa

Thanks.

Sunday 12 June 2011

My Dear Brother Pete

We buried my brother Pete on Friday in a beautiful spot in the churchyard in Wheatley near Oxford where we grew up as kids. It's difficult for all of us when you see your brother/son/Dad/friend being lowered into the grave when only a few days before he was his usual ebullient self. Strangely, though, I felt euphoric. During the preceding days, trying to come to terms with the shock of his unexpected death, helping to arrange all the many details required for the funeral, worrying about family squabbles and so on, was quite draining. However, on the day, with all the heightened emotion, meeting so many of his friends from different walks of life, reacquainting myself with so many relatives who made great efforts to come despite short notice, the consumption of a fair bit of alcohol to help with the release of emotion, and the fact that everything turned out so well with scarcely a hitch made for an extraordinary day that will long live in the memory.
Now of course, there exists a permanent gap that Pete once filled with which we will have to live and with which only time will help us cope.