The Peterborough Thing

So, the Peterborough thing. We head down the A1 for a half marathon that I’m barely fit enough to run. Actually scrub the barely but I’m still giving it a go.

First problem is parking, which we had pre-booked but it still ended up being a free for all. Somehow they manage to slot us in a pre-booked section although I’ll be blocking people in if I don’t get a shift on with my run.

Having parked, the start is very close on the nearby Embankment. My next decision is how much compression stuff to wear. I opt for two calf guards on my extremely dodgy right leg and one on my not quite so dodgy left leg. Then compression socks on top.

The start pens are in parallel with each other, which is different. They are also very narrow, which is also different. However despite causing quite a bit of confusion, it seems to work well. The narrow pens mean that it takes longer than usual to cross the start line but meant that everyone was nicely spread out from the off and of course your time is handled by your chip.

The route takes us through the centre of town (Nottingham take note) before, I think, visiting every housing estate in Peterborough. This doesn’t make for the greatest of scenery but that is counteracted by the amazing crowds who only have to step outside their front doors to give us a cheer and they do so in large numbers (again Nottingham take note). Great local support, everywhere.

My multiple layers of calf support largely hold things together although I wouldn’t pretend I was running anywhere near freely. Things only get really grim, as regards calf pain, over the last three miles.

At the end they hand me a slightly dull technical t-shirt and medal for finishing. I finish in 1:49, not bad in the circumstances.

The aim of this run was, originally, as a warm up to Leicester in two weeks’ time. I now have until midnight to enter that event before the price practically doubles. I contemplate this as we sit in the White Lion in Beeston that evening. This is a new pub for us and we are here as it’s recently been done up and the rumour is it has Old Peculiar on. Well the hand pump is certainly there but it isn’t on, despite the fact they haven’t turned the clip around. They do though have a decent substitute in a dark ale from Caledonian called Trojan Horse at 5.5%. Very nice and it’s probably a mistake that we move onto sample what is on at the Star and the Last Post as we never quite hit those heights again.

As for Leicester... I don’t think I’ll bother.

(Sunday 12^th October)

Oban Bay

In common with the rest of the town, the pubs and restaurants in Oban aren’t very inspiring. There isn’t any nice sea fronting pubs with cosy beer gardens that you sometimes find in resorts. We do find a few offering local beers though and on Thursday we venture into one of those but they turn out to have no beer at all. So we move on, much to their horror. Don’t advertise what you’re not selling!

The next pub does have some local beer and sells us Oban Bay’s Ginger Jakey which isn’t too bad at all as well as a decent meal.

On Friday we look for somewhere to walk and find a secluded if slightly scruffy beach. We take a signed walk from it to a neighbouring village, which lands us in another housing estate with the only form of sustenance coming from a Happy Shopper type store, where we stop for a ice cream before heading back.

That night we strike gold and find the Oban Bay Brewery tap. Cuan Mor not only sells a selection of their beers but also does some very fine food. 

 Probably the place to go in Oban. It’s busy, so I guess everyone else thinks so too.

(Friday 16^th August)

Not Even Usain Bolt

Today is actually a glorious day, nothing like a Bank Holiday weekend and it’s a good day for a run as we head up to the YMCA Leisure Centre in Fleetwood. L grabs our numbers, whilst I find somewhere shady to park the boys.

The race route starts off very dull and boring, as we meander through a housing estate or two, heading roughly in the direction of Blackpool. Which is good, because with nothing to look at, I can concentrate on the run.

The course consists of two differing loops and as we complete the housing estate tour we turn and head back to Fleetwood, along the sea front road. We pass the 11 and 12 mile markers but we’re only approaching the half way point. Then they turn us left before we reach the Leisure Centre and onto the Esplanade pointing us again towards Blackpool.

Now it’s more scenic and dare I say it enjoyable. There is a slight headwind along the Esplanade but nothing to be too concerned about and, sadly, not enough to noticeably propel us home again after we turn for home. This turn comes after a short out and back, that enabled you to size up those just ahead and pick a few targets. An old man with a limp, a guy who looks about twelve, a banana and a girl in an impossibly brief pair of shorts were my disparate selection.

Then it’s the repeat of those last two miles, which I like, as it gives me a nice cosy feeling to be on familiar territory. I reel in 50% of my targets, although sadly not the lightweight racing banana nor, even more sadly, the girl in the impossibly brief pair of shorts, who both prove elusive. e.g. too fast. Aided no doubt by a course that has been mega-flat throughout, so despite aiming for 1:45, I do 1:42. Which is very satisfying, as is whipping past the man with the limp and the twelve year old.

It could have been better... as someone shouts to me to sprint to break 1:42 as the clock clicks over 1:41:55... 56... 57... with thirty metres to go. Hmmm. Who do they think I am? Usain Bolt? Even Usain Bolt couldn’t run thirty metres in three seconds, especially not after running a half marathon. 1:42:08 is fine with me.

Then I am handed a medal (ugh), a banana (ugh) and a Wagon Wheel (ugh ugh). Shouldn’t complain really. I simply cannot face food at a time like this anyway but to be fair to Wagon Wheels, I’ve never been able to face them full stop. They tell us to only take one each, this isn’t a problem. There’s also a guy handing out promotional sachets of recovery drink, which I do make use of.

I’m sort of surprised not to see L waiting for me. She’s injured but not injured enough to admit the full details to me. She had threatened to jog round to the 10K mark and then stop at the ice cream van. Can’t see her in the queue though.

Overall it was a good event. Lots of water out on the course, in bottles as well and nice small bottles at that. Which I powered myself round with, along with three energy gels. Excellent weather and a good all round vibe to the event.

A vibe that is aided by a very pleasant sea front cafe selling tea and bacon cobs. Which is a good way to start a refuelling operation, which is continued with a beer on the way back to Caton and then a meal outside the Ship in the village later that evening.

(Sunday 26th August)

The Housing Estates Of South Wales

This morning MD sits intently watching the glass box thing that I step into to have a shower, just like most people would watch TV. Strange dog.

We discover that our cottage is pitched on a (small) mountain between the two housing estates of Cwmbran and Pontypool. It’s still quite pleasant though.



We take a walk around an ex-reservoir, dating back to 1884, and then on our way back down we pass an about to be very disappointed fisherman on his way up to it.



We try to find an afternoon pub but they're all derelict and/or the type you’d find on a housing estate and/or full of distraught Welsh rugby fans still drowning their sorrows six hours on from defeat to France. Well apart from the one we went in last night but we’ll probably be back there tomorrow.



So, at least it means we resist temptation and get to stay AF, staying in at base camp with pasta and time to contemplate tomorrow.

(Saturday 15th October)