Doing the best that I can, at writing, running and living
I’m looking at the five tiny bumps in an almost neat line still just about visible across my forehead. They, and the fifteen other small bumps on my person, are the remnants of midge bites from our trip, almost all of them picked up during the marathon. The rest of the group had to deal… Continue reading Dingle Peninsula – Part Two
[I wrote this on Tuesday but the wifi was pants] On a shelf, in the house we’re staying at in Ireland, is a book called ‘I Never Knew That About The Irish’ by Christopher Winn. Millan, my nephew who flew over with his mum for a long weekend, dug it out from beneath the assorted Lee Childs… Continue reading Dingle Peninsula – Part One
It was a race of two halves. I’ve often been told that a marathon’s second half begins at twenty miles, and the second half yesterday was noticeably different from the first. I didn’t expect my hottest marathon to be in Ireland, in September. It felt even warmer than when I ran in Greece for the… Continue reading Dingle Marathon
As we jogged along the road in Cloghane, the American came out of his house with the re-cycling. He cheered us as we hailed him and continued on. It was a small village. Padraig (pronounced ‘Pohrag’) had introduced himself the night before, by the fire in O’Conner’s. His was the only table free in the… Continue reading The Night Before
I’ve just finished reading Christopher Isherwood’s Goodbye to Berlin, the book which holds the initial threads of the storyline that make up the musical Cabaret. I should have, for completion’s sake, gone back and re-watched the film starring Liza Minelli and Michael York but for this blog, I’ll have to make do with my memory… Continue reading Cabaret – Goodbye to Berlin
Roundabouts. Specifically, the Apex Corner roundabout in Mill Hill. Every single exit on this chaotic catherine wheel is a major thoroughfare of northwest London, so close as it is to the motorway. As week-long interlopers of the metropolis, we’re not used to the frequent honking horns as cars swing around the circle, indicating (or not)… Continue reading Dog Sitting in London
I didn't get it from Waterstones What are people looking for when they go to a medium? Is it solace, reassurance, resolution? Or just an affirmation that they’ve picked the right kitchen units? I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to read something else by Hilary Mantel. I loved her Wolf Hall trilogy.… Continue reading Hilary Mantel – Beyond Black
‘We have hills in Wales, not fells.’ The barman sounded categorical, but I still liked the idea that I was now sitting snuggly by his fire after having completed another fell race, even though I’m none the wiser on the distinction. Before I took them out onto the hills. It was the final midweek race in the… Continue reading Ponderosa Fell Race
When it’s a fast flat course and offering a tidy sum of prize money, you’re going to entice some cracking runners. For this race in Wrexham, there was the likes of Marc Scott, a former Olympian (28:27), and Omar Ahmed, who I’d once seen in the Chester 10K, when he and Jonny Mellor were duking… Continue reading Helena Tipping 10K
‘Under no circumstances,’ I stipulated to Vince, as we passed kilometre marker 94, ‘tell me that we’ve only got a Parkrun to go.’ We were on the last section of the Ridgeway, an ancient chalky trail path that runs from Wiltshire to Buckinghamshire for eighty-seven miles, although once upon a time, it had been more… Continue reading Race To The Stones – 50K
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