I’ve mentioned that I’ve been trying to compile the ‘gigography of my life’, even to the extent of digging through my t-shirt drawer looking for concert dates to add to the list. Now L’s doing the same with her race t-shirts, as she compiles the ‘raceography’ of her life.
This is an interesting project too and as with gigs the internet has its uses. Partly. You’d have thought finding out your previous times for a race as big as the Nottingham Half Marathon would be doddle. Nope. There are no previous results on their website at all. Naturally I immediately email the organisers to find out why not.
Meanwhile I manage to piece together a race history from 2003 onwards using results that have been taken off the Nottingham Half website and reposted elsewhere. I even find an archived version of the 2006 website on some obscure server that contains a full set of results for 2004 and 2005. Unfortunately we need to go back further than that.
Sweatshop, the current organisers, quickly get back to me and promise to email the race director to see if he can help. I’m kind of impressed, even though they haven’t unearthed anything yet. I might even buy some shoes from them.
Time for this week’s long training run. 17km tonight, only a little longer than last week but it takes me to a convenient stopping point with a shop and a bus stop. It goes oddly well.
Then I walk the boys up to the tennis centre to meet L from the gym. Doggo is a pain. He simply doesn’t see the point of this walk at all. We don’t go down the footpath that leads to our usual entrance point onto the park, and then we then walk straight past the park’s side entrance. Although, as I do point out to him, it’s locked anyway, as the people trying to get out will testify to. They do lock it far too early in summer.
Then to compound his misery, we walk straight past the main entrance. This final snub is too much for him and he has a brief sit down protest. He glares at me as if to reiterate ‘just what is the point of this walk?’ Eventually we carry on, Doggo sulking and stopping to sniff at everything in an act of dissent. MD meanwhile is oblivious to it all, ploughing on regardless, a walks a walk.
Then Doggo sees his Mum. See there is a point to it after all.
(Tuesday 23rd August)
Sense of place
22 hours ago