Walking Better Than Me

MD has injured his paw; in fact he’s almost ripped a claw off and just before his second show as well. We cover his bad paw with a sock, a special dog sock that was provided to us for Doggo to do the Sport Relief mile the other year. He looks a bit shocked, when we put it on him, perhaps by the colour. Yes it’s red. Then I think he realises that it will get him the sympathy vote, so he doesn't try and remove it.

He’s still walking better than me though, although I feel I’ve recovered well from yesterday. The legs are a bit stiff but they’re a lot better than last week.

It’s Crufts on Thursday, so in an endeavour to look smart for the TV cameras (highlights on More4 and live online, if you’re interested) I get a haircut. Although after much consideration I decide not to go blonde. Then I head into JJB to look for new tracksuit bottoms. They actually have some good stuff but again mostly in Large, X-Large and XX-Large, just like Sports Direct on Saturday. Racks full of them, so they’re obviously not selling. Which isn’t surprising as it’s all quite technical stuff and pricey too. There’s not much in Medium and I found Medium too baggy anyway for what I wanted. So I had to choose between two styles in Small. Just hope it goes with my team t-shirt that I still haven’t got.

We are supposed to be at one gig tonight and Daughter at another but Lady Gaga has cancelled on her, due to logistical problems. If you google ‘Lady Gaga cancels’ it comes up with loads of gigs she’s cancelled all over the world in the last year for various reasons. She seems to be a bit of a cancelling expert. Apparently she’s been persuaded to do some extra gigs in Australia on this occasion, which is her ‘logistical problem’, she can’t be in two places at once but shouldn’t she have honoured the original dates. Meanwhile L and I are at Rock City for Mr Ego and his band, Liam Fray’s Courteeners.

To be honest, I haven’t been that struck on their new album 'Falcon' and I was actually more looking forward to seeing Detroit Social Club, who I’m quite taken with. A much talked about band, who have been around for a few years, with very little output to show for it but now with an excellent new single out entitled 'Kiss The Sun' which is what they open with tonight and pretty awesome live it is too.

With a name like Detroit Social Club they are obviously from... errmm... Newcastle upon Tyne and sound like a Geordie Black Rebel Motorcycle Club to me. This means I whole heartedly approve of them. It’s an excellent short set from them, where ‘Black And White’, a current free download, is just terrific in the middle of the set. As is the closing 'Sunshine People'. I think it’s all rather powerful stuff but then I was already a convert before tonight.



In the other hand I’m still to be totally converted by Liam Fray, I still don’t particularly like the man but I do like his band, so it’s a bit of a shame that he makes the live shows so much about him.

At least I think I've figured out why the Courteeners play the entirety of ‘Rock n Roll Star’ before they come on. It's to tempt people into getting the beer throwing out of the way before the band comes on and gives the crew chance to mop the stage. However it doesn't work. Although an impressive amount is dispatched at this point there's plenty been held back in reserve to be launched when the band take the stage, after the usual protracted delay. Both 'Cavorting' and the following 'Acrylic' are accompanied by industrial quantities of what can only hope is alcohol or water.

The crowd don’t help Mr Fray’s ego by chanting his name far too often for my liking, his heads big enough already thank you very much. When they get bored with that, and with chanting the band’s name, they settle on ‘Nottingham Is Full Of Fun' football style which isn't what they chant Nottingham is full of at Derby's home games but never mind.

Then there’s the crowd surfing, which is even more excessive and extreme than usual, which seems to rile the security who are getting rougher than they probably should be and taking no prisoners. So it’s unclear what causes the few visible injuries that are sustained, the crowd surfing or the unsuccessful prevention of it.

Music wise, the new songs sound much better live than on record and I can see some of them becoming real favourites live. The faithful are already well rehearsed on most of them. Particularly 'Cross My Heart & Hope To Fly' and 'Scratch Your Name Upon My Lips' come across very well.

Liam himself seems a bit miffed at the negative press reaction to the new album and is not backwards in telling us all about it. Perhaps he set the bar too high with ‘St Jude’, where even the not so good tracks are still live favourites. Perhaps even, deep down, Liam agrees because tonight’s 21 song set includes more of the first album than the second, which is unusual for a band promoting a new record.

As usual they wind down towards the end with a trio of solo songs from Liam. During the first, 'The Rest Of The World Has Gone Home', he has to pause to watch as an attractive female crowd surfer is pulled out at the front, then as his pulse returns to normal he continues from where he left off. Following that with ‘No You Didn't, No You Don't’ and ‘Yesterday, Today & Probably Tomorrow’ with full crowd accompaniment.



The full band return for the recent single 'You Overdid It Doll' and the traditional set closers of ‘Not Nineteen Forever’ and ‘What Took You So Long?’. It’s all a tad predictable but still very entertaining stuff.

Famous Last Words

The organiser of today’s half marathon, known as the ‘Newton’s Fraction Half Marathon’ doesn’t exactly inspire confidence when he says he’s putting his head above the parapet, admits they haven't got it 100% right in the past and promises ‘the best Fraction yet’. It's not an easy course, he says, but you will enjoy it... famous last words perhaps.

Not sure what the problems were in the past but today dawns cold although sunny and fine with it as well. Initially I go for long trousers but change my mind and have to strip in the car. No one seems to notice or mind or perhaps care.

Today also, I warm up better, in an effort to avoid the sore knees of last week. I do a lap of their running track and plenty of stretches and stuff.

We start and I repeat the same ‘too fast’ first mile of last week, around 7.10 but this time I’m not phased, I’m looking for a 7.20 average. In fact I hold 7.10 for the first five miles which is excellent paced running.

I have a pack of gel to get me through the ordeal. There are five water stops and I have a squirt of gel and a mouthful of water at each, which seems to work ok. L’s drug of choice is ‘sport beans’ one for each mile, although these look just like normal jelly beans, but cost several times the price.

The first of two brutish hills puts pay to my good pace, but then I settle back into 7.20’s before the second hill in the eleventh mile forces a correction to that pace. Then I run the last mile in 7.15. So all is good with the world.

There are sarcastic signs taunting you on these hills, informing you, among other things, that you’ll never get a PB on this course. Well, I may only have one race to compare it with but I intend to get a PB, in fact now I’m determined to get one.

The running track is a welcome sight even though we have to do a lap and a half of it to finish. 600 metres to go the chap says. I want to argue that actually I’m sure it’s more than that, as the first lap is around the outside and is therefore more than 400 metres but I don’t have the breath to do so.

The first twelve men and women get a bottle of Newton's Fraction Ale. No, I don’t get one. Just a red t-shirt, ugh, and no massage. So that’s L’s job sorted for later.

1 hour 36 minutes, that’s two minutes faster than last week. I’m even feeling rather fit afterwards. So roll on next week. I reckon I can do another three miles at 7.20 or so which means I should crack the two hours, just, but we’ll see. In fact everyone is talking about next week and everyone has a pet name for it. The Kill-athon seems a popular one, whilst L sees it as her own personal Kilimanjaro-athon.

The 'worth having' goody bag turns out to be a calorie counters nightmare which means I get L’s as well, so yes, certainly 'worth having'.

In the evening we head out for a few beers and a film. Another of L’s choices, ‘The Lovely Bones’ based on the best selling book by Alice Sebold.

The year is 1973 and on her home from school a young girl, Susie Salmon (Saoirse Ronan), is approached by her neighbour, George Harvey. He persuades her to enter an underground den he has built. Once she enters, he attacks her, kills her and then dismembers her body before bundling it into an old safe. Meanwhile, Susie's spirit goes up into her own personal afterlife, an 'in-between' state between life and death, which looks shockingly like Windows XP world. You know those garish green grass/blue sky images from the default Windows XP backdrop. Either that or it's that hillside that features in the Teletubbies programme. At first, I thought L had sneaked me into ‘Alice in Wonderland’ instead. Except a Tim Burton film is sure to be darker and there's not much dark here.

From up high Susie watches down over the aftermath of her death, like an angel and she doesn’t seem to mind being dead. The Salmon family react as you would expect, at first reluctant to believe in what has happened and then consumed by grief. Meanwhile Harvey is not suspected by the police and gets away with the crime. Jack, Susie's father, isn’t so sure and continually harasses the police about Harvey.



I don’t know the book so I’m probably not in a good position to comment. Although I’ve read a synopsis of it and L has filled me in on details as well. So I was expecting an intricate story and a disturbing one, dealing with difficult issues, but we didn’t get it. In fact we didn’t get much at all. I kept waiting for something to happen but nothing did, for ages. This was not edge of the seat stuff.

Perhaps Peter 'Lord of the Rings' Jackson was the wrong person to be handed the reins to this film. His liking for the visual effects side of film making has been used to full effect and to make room for all that, they’ve had to dispense with the plot, or perhaps all the computer generated stuff is to try and distract you from the fact that somewhere along the line they forgot what the plot was.



The film also has some celebrated actors in it. Rachel Weisz is the distressed mother and Susan Sarandon plays her alcoholic mother. While Mark Wahlberg plays the devastated father well and there is an excellent performance from Stanley Tucci, who is menacing as the murdering neighbour.

There are a few good scenes but not enough of them. Suzie was supposed to be trying to influence things from beyond the grave but there is little of this. It kind of got exciting when Susie's sister Lindsey grew suspicious and finally breaks into Harvey's house where she discovers information that implicates him. He discovers her there but fails to catch her. Then comes an unbelievable scene where she takes an age to hand the information over to her family, as if it wasn’t that important after all. In the meantime, Harvey, knowing the game is up, disappears. Although he eventually gets his comeuppance when he is killed by an icicle...



It’s a very empty film and an incoherent one, which perhaps thinks it’s a murder mystery but a poor one at that. The murder is after all revealed early on but we still get the suspicion that, that is what the film is all about. It has no flow at all and it’s hard to see who the finished product is aimed out. Perhaps they asked Jackson to Disney-fy the story but how can you do that to a story about a girl who has being attacked and murdered.

I get home and switch the computer on. In my inbox are both race results, this weeks and last weeks. So that’s very quick from Grantham, very slow from Sleaford.

An Appointment With Doom

I’m so not bothered that I’m missing my first Clumber Duathlon in four years. It’s always been a case of must do purely because there’s nothing else on over that weekend. Well this year I have an appointment with doom tomorrow, Grantham style half marathon doom.

In the morning I end up in Nottingham city centre and shopping, due to an unavoidable optician’s appointment. It's hard though, as I go in to Nottingham so infrequently I no longer know where any of the shops are. I’m trying to get some new tracksuit trousers so that I will to look good on TV on Thursday when I'm at Crufts. Walking trousers would do, so I pop into Blacks. I see that Craghoppers do an ideal pair but they only appear to have them in women’s sizes. I ask the assistant if they have the same style in men’s. ‘Oh yes’ she says and pulls a pair off the next rail. They are not the same; they have big baggy pockets down each leg. I don't need pockets. An agility run is forty seconds at the most, so I don't need to carry supplies or for that matter a map, compass, etc. Well not usually. This is also quite sexists isn’t it, the women’s trousers imply that they aren't expected to carry these things but instead leave that to their men folk. So if women get lost on the hills blame Craghoppers...

Anyhow, I digress, for my intended use for these trousers pockets would just get in the way. The assistant can’t see a problem. ‘Most men prefer the commando look’ she tells me, with a completely straight face. The male assistant behind the desk stifles a laugh. I don't think she knows what she's just implied... although I do know what she meant.

I move on and try Sports Direct, which I knew would be waste of time. Looking at the rails there, they really only stick three sizes. Those being: - Large, X-Large, XX-Large. This is not sports equipment for people who do sport, except from the comfort of their own sofa. There is though a chink of light at the end of the dark Sports Direct tunnel and not many people know this, I certainly didn't, because there are no signs outside the store to tell you this. Up on the top floor they have branches of ‘She Runs He Runs’ and ‘Field and Trek’. Blimey. They even stock things in Small and Medium but I still come away emptied handed.

There’s a victory for Derby today, 2-0 over Watford and then we head over to Lincoln for the first of three gigs in four days. Tonight, Editors.

Support comes from New York band Cold Cave who are on stage when we arrive, standing behind three bands of synthesizers. It’s so 80’s retro, so Gary Numan, except they don’t sound much like him. In fact they sound more like New Order than current media darlings’ Delphic do, who happily sound nothing like New Order despite what the music press say, at least not when they were any good. Cold Cave are early New Order, when they mattered.

One of their members looks like that guy from Sparks, the miserable one, but only because he looks, well, miserable. There’s a girl on another of the synths, plus a drummer and then there’s lead singer, Wes Eisold, behind his keyboard. He’s more into being moody than miserable but they make a good sound. Their obvious 80’s-ness is mixed with a noisier edge which perhaps points to Eisold’s punk/hardcore background.

I love ‘em. Excellent stuff. My kind of electro, move over Delphic.



We only saw the Editors in October at the beginning of their 'In This Light And On This Evening' tour, but they were so good, we just had to book to see them again. Well, when I say good; they weren’t quite as good as I expected. On that night they seemed oddly subdued, well Tom Smith did, the crowd certainly were and the track selection irked me a little. So a second chance tonight and boy, did they take it.

What I didn't want them to do was to keep the same format of the set, same start, same end, same encore, as they have been pretty much doing, throughout their jaunt across Europe, the US and even down under. The middle of the set though has been ever evolving and that is the beauty of the Editors, they epitomise what I like in a live band. Their set is likely to include almost anything from their three albums, no track is ever completely forgotten and labelled as ‘we don't play that anymore’ as some bands so. Nothing is too obscure. B sides or tracks off the bonus CDs they often throw in with main albums. 'You Are Fading' is one such track that has become a live favourite. I just felt singled out on the wrong end of track rotation in Sheffield last year.

They start the same, although at first I don’t think they’re going to as Tom Smith himself appears to muck up the intro to 'In This Light And On This Evening' and has to start it again. 'Lights' follows and yes, all the big numbers are present and correct of course, 'An End Has A Start', 'Bones', 'Blood', 'Bullets' etc but what’s this... ‘A Life As A Ghost’ off the Cuttings II bonus CD. Cranky enough for me? Oh yes. I always find a cranky set list much more enjoyable than an obvious one. By the way, 'You Are Fading' is absent tonight, so they’ll get letters of complaint about that, but this allowed room for some cracking diversity.



Tonight they also play ‘The Boxer’, the only track off the new album criminally omitted last time. Possibly the best of the more doleful numbers of the new album.

Then there’s ‘Escape The Nest’, a live favourite, not played (just to annoy me) last time, and boy did I take it personally. It’s even more awesome live than on record. I’m one happy bunny tonight.



This is followed by much confusion and blank looks all round. I don’t know this one and looking round nor does anyone else. Turns out to be a brand new track called ‘Last Day’, played for the first time tonight. We are honoured and pretty good it sounds too. Of course Tom Smith still introduces nothing. You would have thought at least a few words about this one but no. Still he’s generally just as theatrical tonight as usual. He is not a man who is capable of standing still, literally throwing himself into things, or sitting still for that matter. He’s just as animated when he’s seated at the piano. His hands and body continually trying to embellish the song. He is so into his own songs and tonight, so too are the crowd, right from the start and this makes such a difference to the atmosphere.

Tom is a treat to watch but then so too is Mr Popular, Chris Urbanowicz, whether this be on his Rickenbacker or on the keyboard with the guitar slung across his back. You be forgiven for thinking that some of the words to their songs are ‘Chris Chris Chris’, such is the frequency of their utterance from the crowd near me.



Slightly surprised that ‘Camera’ is still in the set but it’s excellent again tonight. Then we have a really big finish with ‘The Racing Rats’, ‘Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors’ and ‘Munich’ back to back. Playing ‘Munich’ has really stuffed the encore, so it’s got to be different now.

Tom returns on his own and as he tinkles at the piano I think for a moment he’s going to play ‘Distance’ which would have been awesome but no, he gives us a ‘Twilight’ moment, well a ‘Twilight: New Moon’ moment. Their song ‘No Sound But The Wind’ which was part of the soundtrack but has yet not seen the light of day on any of their own releases.



‘Bricks And Mortar’ lifts the pace a touch before ‘Papillon’ cranks it up further and then Tom turns positively chatty, thanking the crowd generously before ending again with ‘Fingers In The Factories’.

No complaints from me tonight. Ten out of ten.

Not Dragged Along

I cycle in. A fellow cyclist pulls up alongside me at the Balloon Wood crossroads in his shorts, brrrrrrrr, and L thinks I don’t feel the cold. I have plenty of layers on this morning. We have a brief chat but then once the lights go green, he clears off and leaves me for dust.

‘Didn't he drag you along?’ L asks, ‘isn’t that how it works with cyclists?’

Hmmm, well yes it does, if you can get close enough in the first place to get dragged along... I couldn’t get near him.

L’s almost complimentary about Mr Yap (MD) this morning. She says he was ‘quite well behaved’ and even forgot to bark at the dog with no knees. A dog with no knees? I know how he feels; I had no knees until about Wednesday after that run last weekend.

Daughter has gone blonde. L asks me to be polite. I’m always polite, just not sure Daughter likes it when I’m polite. I think it makes her suspicious.

L goes to the gym after work and we rendezvous at the Plough, where it’s the start of Nottingham’s Stout and Porter trail which means that for the next month or so, many pubs will be stocking the dark stuff. Heaven or it would be, if I’d not got tons of races coming up this month which will force far too many AF nights.

Blue Cyclists

It's a chilly morning and as I jog up to the bus stop, a young student pedals past me on his MTB. He's come out in three quarter length shorts and no jacket. Consequently his legs are visibly blue and he’s shivering all over, this appears to be making him weave all over the place. He has got a jumper on but he's pulled most of that over his hands to try and keep them warm which has had the effect of exposing his back to the elements, turning that blue as well.

He part wobbles, part crawls past me but then a few moments later I catch up with him again. I realise he is now wobbling even more violently than before because he’s struggling with the gradient of the Nottingham ring road. It hadn't really occurred to be before that this might be uphill, it's pretty flat really. Well in my eyes it is but I suppose there is a very slight slope to it. He practically comes to a stop and I overtake him. I take a quick glance at him to check he hasn’t cardiac arrested due to the cold. He's still breathing but the blue of his legs is now topped off by the redness of his face. I carry on with my run. When I get further up the road I glance back, to see that he's now got off his bike and is now walking. If his first lecture is at nine he's got just under two hours to get the quarter of a mile to the University. I'm not sure he's going to make it.

As usual I get the bus most of the way to work and then run the last five miles. As expected, it’s hard work this morning. My right knee is still a bit sore and I had to stop a few times to do stretches and stuff, which work quite well. My joints were starting to almost function properly by the time I arrived at work. I think if I warm up well on Sunday I should be ok.

The old joints function well in the evening as well, when I play squash. I again win my one game. Since I started focusing on one game and not trying to win them all, things are getting better. The trick is not to focus on the first few games like I used to but to simply use those to tire out my opponent. Once I’ve got more games in the bag than I achieved last year perhaps I might try and sneak two games off him. After that, the sky’s the limit.

It’ll Be Alright On The Night (Maybe)

I’ve been dreading going in the car this week but I knew it would be unavoidable at some point. That day has arrived and yes, the traffic was awful.

My knees are still a bit sore so I make use of the sachet of joint aid, or whatever it’s called, that they slipped in to my goodie bag on Sunday. It’s quite a pleasant drink actually. Whether it does any good or not is another matter.

It probably ought to be me taking L to the romantic film this evening rather than Daughter, as it’s our anniversary today, but never mind, I’ll make it up to her at the weekend. I shall take her somewhere romantic on Friday, like the Plough... with the dogs, she’ll like that.

I think tonight’s film is a good one to have avoided to be honest. It’s called ‘Leap Year’ and it’s a romcom, so you can deduce the entire plot from just those two bits of information and save yourself some money.



I have a vital Crufts training session tonight but first its MD usual class. What starts out as a bad session turns into a good one when it is pointed out to me that the reason he’s cocking things up big time tonight is because tonight’s course is mainly anticlockwise, meaning he is on my right. When going clockwise, he’s fine, as he’s on my left. So something to work on there.

There are no such positives in Doggo’s training session later, as we practice for next week’s Team Agility event at Crufts. The four of us in the team try various different sequences, e.g. who runs first, second, third etc without any of them working. So we return to plan A which means Doggo and I will again run first, just like last year. None of the dogs seems to get on together tonight, which does not bode well. I’m sure it’ll be alright on the night, maybe.

My specific problem was that Doggo just didn’t seem to like having other dogs around him on the start and finish line at all, which when it’s a team relay is kind of unavoidable. This has never bothered him before. So I think its best that he goes first, then he might not realise it’s a team event, until it’s too late.

Meerkats

Its -3 outside, so it’s going to be icy isn’t it? But I really need to bike. I can barely walk, so running is out of the question but I need to do something, so bike it is.

It turns out to be not too bad at all, there are a few patches of ice but they prove easy to avoid. Less easy to avoid was the suicidal buggy woman who materialised out of nowhere, weaving frenziedly, Meerkat like, in and out of the gridlocked traffic through Spondon. If I hadn’t quickly put the anchors she would have scuttled headlong in to path and would be now wedged in my front forks.

The dogs got a ‘treat’ of sorts this morning, we're out of dog food, so they had bread and left over Chinese pancakes for breakfast. The kids have eaten most things in the house whilst we were away but I didn't think they'd started on the dog food, well I hope they didn’t.

I participate in the BBC Strategy Review Online Survey this morning. Most people are up in arms about the proposed axing of 6 Music, so as usual I can’t resist saying my piece.



The Director-General proposes that they cut back on populist programs and stop ratings chasing by offering ‘something distinctive and better than other broadcasters’ and ‘its radio stations should play pop music that other radio stations don’t’.

So how does that tally with the proposal to ‘Close Radio 6 Music and focusing the BBC’s pop music output on Radio 1 and Radio 2’... Short answer, it doesn't.

In fact isn’t that statement totally the wrong way around? Doesn’t that sentence describe in an instant where the BBC is going wrong?

Naturally there's a Facebook group 'Save BBC 6 Music' and a petition.

The Reason I Didn't Win.

As I wake up this morning it becomes evident why I didn't win yesterday's race. Apart from the obvious reasons of insufficient talent and fitness. It appears that somebody kneecapped me half way round when I wasn’t looking. A tad unfair don’t you think? I can barely walk now.

So I have to skip my planned cycle and crawl to the bus stop. I don’t fancy operating a clutch in the car for an hour in heavy traffic without any legs. I hobble in to work to find that hardly anybody is in, so I can’t even impress folk with my new found disability.

L’s slotted back into things after our holiday more quickly than usual. Almost immediately life is back to normal and she’s loathing her computer once more. Her problems with the wonderfully obtuse Windows 7 continue, before our hols she was threatening to resign and go to work in Asda. Whereas life with MD has also picked up from where it left off and he’s back to yapping his way around the neighbourhood. L’s attempts to distract him with dog treats don’t seem to work when he devours the treat and her finger, briefly choking on it (the treat that is, not L’s finger) in his rush to carry on regardless with his yapping.

Rather worrying is that yesterday an avalanche swept two skiers 2,000ft down the mountain at Glencoe ski area. What’s most worrying is that although they had gone off piste they had only done so by 10ft, that’s not very far. We were up there ourselves on Friday. Thankfully they’re ok apart from a fractured leg for one and a knee injury for the other.



I get home and follow the example of A level students everywhere. MD and I attempt to cram the homework, that we’ve had for two weeks, into the two hours before dog class this evening. Well we have been on holiday and I couldn’t fit MD’s cage in the car, so I kind of have an excuse but I don’t think we get away with it. At one stage we were made to train in the equivalence of the dunce’s corner until we got it right.

A Test Of Endurance

Now here's a first. Well for me anyway. L's an old hand at these but I best not use a phrase like that in front of her. Today is my first half marathon and unfortunately I can’t say it’ll also be my last because I’ve got another one next week. It’s supposed to be just a training run for the bigger picture, that being the Kilomathon, which is even longer and is now only two weeks away.

We've driven all the way over to the back of the beyond, well Sleaford, at the back end of the coldest February for centuries (or so some of the papers would have you believe) and to top it all it's raining.

Oh well, this is what you get for trying to arrange a low key entry into the world of distance running. I say low key because I'm expecting there to only be about 30 entries but L disagrees. She says this race will be on everybody’s London training plan. London being that populist marathon thing they do down south. She's right. I'm wrong. There are hundreds here.

Another problem is it's not at all dog friendly. The start is within the grounds of RAF Cranwell and dogs aren’t even allowed on the RAF's sports field. There are all sorts of dire military style threats posted up on signs. To make it worse they then take the run in and out of the far side of the base, not the side where we have been forced to park the car. This makes even taking the dogs a walk to watch L run the last mile out on the road impossible.

The start is on grass, not a preferred option of mine. I stand well back from the idiots at the front but still I find that the pace seems quite quick. 7.07 for the first mile confirms it, I was looking for an 8.00. In fact, it’s so quick that two chaps near me stop dead in protest. I ease off too. One mile done, twelve and a bit to go, how hard can it be?

The early promised hill is just a slight incline. So far so good but then there’s a stretch of around two miles that takes you across cross country. This unsettles me and aggravates the ankles but at least it slows my pace. Then when that’s over and we’re on to Viking Way, a Roman road which is now part of a cycle trail, I settle into a good 7.30 pace.

The six mile point arrives; this is where I usually stop. Today I can’t.

I slot in behind two lads who seem to be going at about the right pace and this has the added bonus that they shelter me from the wind. Then we take a sharp left onto a busy road, where we have to run in single file. Somehow at this point, the two of them manoeuvre me to the front and now I'm pace setting for them. How did that happen? When I slow slightly on a small incline one of them even has the nerve to criticize me for slowing down.

I'm sure he then lifts the pace and sure enough the next mile, mile 10, is done in 6.50. Ouch. I tell him off. We slow to 7.15s. Perhaps it’s a coincidence that at around this point my right knee starts to go, a mile later the left one’s comes out in sympathy.

There are three drinks stations and I have a small drink at each, I’ve never done that before. Though I can't drink and run, I have to slow to a walk, causing one of the chaps who has been stalking me to almost run into the back of me. Serves him right. There’s also a jelly baby stop, never done that before either. It's a day of firsts. Very welcome, although chewing and breathing is something else I need to practice.

At mile 11, my new friend the stalker and I, hear music and rustling... an ipod wearing guy in full waterproofs, gloves and a bobble hat catches us... and passes us. Oh the shame.

At 12 miles I feel surprisingly good and I go for home, outwitting Mr Stalker. I lose him and pass a few others as well. I come home in 1 hour 38 minutes which is 2 minutes under budget. Success.

L had already warned me that she'd be a while... so I grab a free massage, get changed, exercise the dogs (briefly) and grab a coffee... then I go back to see her finish.

In the evening, having not seen the kids for a week, we take them out for a meal. Well Son has a prior engagement, so we bung him the money for a takeaway and take Daughter for a Chinese. I thought perhaps the hardest test of the day was the half marathon, I was wrong. The sheer size of the Chinese meal we order tests my powers of endurance to far greater levels.

Too Much Snow

The trip up to Glencoe takes seven hours (again) and is as good as it gets really. No hold ups and once you get to the Lake District its pleasant views all the way, well apart from Glasgow obviously but you can close your eyes for that bit. We had a brief stop which almost blighted the whole trip when some chap tried to park his car on top of the dogs, who were having their lunch. Ok, so perhaps we shouldn't have been feeding the dogs in Tesco’s car park but that's no reason for him to try and park on top of us when half the car park was free. These places all have baby changing facilities etc etc but dog feeding zones? No I don’t think so.

As we arrive the thermometer descends to -5 at times and there’s snow on the ground in the village but not a lot. The mountains though look loaded. Back home, in my absence Derby lose whilst in Vancouver Amy Williams lands Winter Olympic gold in the skeleton bobsleigh.

Sunday. It snows! In Nottingham. Typical. That’s not supposed to happen. It's supposed to be snowing up here. That's why we came. To exercise the dogs and us, we go for a run (what else). 9.2 miles in the snowy valley below Ben Nevis. Very picturesque. Although I didn't expect the valley to be so relentlessly uphill, even on the way back or was that just my imagination? Then just for good measure we run the 2.5 miles to the pub, where the dogs (both of them) are threatened with expulsion for being gobby. Running back probably wasn't such a good idea after four pints and chilli n chips. It was a good job I skipped dessert.



The next day we ski at Nevis Range, where there’s tons of snow. All the ski runs are open, it’s sunny and there’s no wind. It’s just so unlike Scotland. Give me a Weizen Bier or a Gluhwein and it could be Austria. I could have skied my favourite run, Warrens, forever. Then I attempted the Nid Wall (a black), totally unpisted and full of holes due to hill walker’s size eleven boots. In fact I had to slalom down through the descending walkers, around twenty of them. It was memorable but only because it was hard work. Glad I did it but I soon return to my mate Warren.



We checked out the finally reopened (after over three years) and now refurbished Glencoe Hotel. Nice but their only beer is Deuchars. The only Scottish beer you can get everywhere in England. Not an inspired choice and an opportunity missed. The whiskeys were cheap though.

We are alternating ski days and dog days, so on Tuesday we run again. This time along the Caledonian Canal from a place called Caol where Neptune's Staircase is, that’s a series of locks, to Moy Bridge, a swing bridge. The route is known as the Great Glen Way. It goes all the way to Inverness, I think. Fun was had by all. Particularly MD who got to bark at sheep, cows and the odd cat. Even the cats up here are ganging up on him. I think the Nottingham feline fraternity must have passed the word on, that he’s so easy to wind up.

The weather forecasts can't seem to agree whether the current nice sunny weather is going to last or not. The BBC forecasts that the Nottingham snow is heading our way but there’s no sign of it as I go to bed on Tuesday night. So I contemplate making the eighty mile drive over to Cairngorm on Wednesday, to sample the once in a decade conditions but...

As I pull back the curtains on Wednesday morning, suddenly all plans are put on hold. The snow has arrived. Nil visibility persuades us not to ski at all. The dogs love the alternative, a walk in a blizzard and the fresh snow. MD loves it so much he shins up a mountain to say hello to a few wild deer. Then gets severely reprimanded when he rejoins us.



The forecast says today's snow is just for starters before the deluge due tomorrow. So perhaps we best batten down the hatches in the Clachaig Inn with the wonderful Black Gold, a beer teasingly produced by a brewery named after the unattainable Cairngorm. We bravely wade through the falling snow to the pub. Intrepid or what. Certainly less hazardous than driving given the conditions. Using the skis might have been an option though.

The next morning it's still snowing. I decide to stay in bed until lunchtime with Cycling Weekly and L for entertainment. We’re snowed in. The news says that the A82 main road up to Glencoe is shut. So we’re cut off and in more ways than one, we also seem to have lost mobile reception. So Daughter can't have her morning alarm call.

We walk to the road and yes sure enough the snow gates are shut and a lorry is parked across it, making sure no one passes. In the village it's milder now and raining but higher up on the A82 past the Three Sisters and the ski lifts it's still snowing. So another day walking the dogs and chilling out. I’ve even finished the Sunday paper by Thursday, now there's a first.



Things improve enough later for us to battle against the elements and the road conditions to get to Fort William for a curry and a pint in the Grog n Gruel. They have mobile reception up there. So at least we can tell people we’re still alive and to find out how late Daughter was for college.



By Friday, the snow has stopped although weather reports say Nevis Range is stormbound. Glencoe mountain though is apparently open. We give it a go. They've had a ridiculous amount of snow and it was too deep really but good fun anyway. Waist deep drifts. Totally un-skiable especially on blades but we’ve left our proper skis back at the cottage. At least I can now say that I've skied/slithered/staggered/fell/waded all the way down to the car park. There's never been enough snow to do this before. It wasn’t elegant but at least I’ve done it. L celebrates surviving the car park run by getting addicted to Grozet (Gooseberry ale) in the pub.

By Saturday and home time, all the roads are open again. Although the guy at the petrol station advises us to head south whilst the going is good, as the strong winds are drifting the snow back across the road. We make our escape and make it all the way home, again in around seven hours. The trip is even prettier on the way back; the snow went all the way down to Glasgow and then reappeared again, in the Pennines and the Lake District.

Back home, we assess the damage that two teenagers can wreak left to their own devices in a house for a week. Although we had a fair idea because Daughter had been sending us preview photos.