Dirty Weekend In Whitechapel

I’m in London, again, by train, again, in First Class, again, only this time it’s not business but pleasure and a dirty weekend in Whitechapel with L and Mo Farah.

It has to be said that First Class just isn’t the same when you’re too late for breakfast and as we find out on the way home the perks are practically non existent on Sundays. If you want a drink, fetch it yourself from the buffet card, four coaches away. Thanks for that.

We do live it up a little on the way there, before we even get on the train, with wine and Prosecco at Nottingham Station which costs almost as such as the train tickets.

The Holiday Inn at Whitechapel turns out to be very swish and not at all seedy, shame. Then we head to the Olympic Stadium on the DLR where we join the huge security queues to get in. While we queue it gets me thinking that if someone wanted to detonate something for maximum effect then in the queue would be quite an effective option. Scary!

Of course these checks would be a hell of a lot quicker if practically everyone didn’t need to bring a huge rucksack with them. It’s a three hour athletics session folks, what can you possibly need to get through that?

I suppose the food options aren’t great and nor are the beer choices. The velodrome, just across the way, is much better so there’s no excuse really. We have a massive pasty thing and then pork roll afterwards. 

We arrive in time for the Opening Ceremony, which doesn’t really exist, then we see Mo win the 10k and everyone go ape for Bolt in the 100m heats. I’ve never quite understood this Bolt thing myself but then I’ve never really understood the attraction of the 100m either. 

We also see Laura Muir looking impressive in 1500m heats and get totally confused by the Pole Vault qualifying. It is one of my favourite events but they don’t make it easy to follow and, just to add to the confusion, there are three field events going on at once.

However it’s an excellent evening and it’s good to finally get inside the stadium. It's only took me five years. Then afterwards we are herded back towards the station down closed off streets whether we wanted to go there or not. We couldn’t get to a bar, which was all we wanted to do, and eventually ended up back in the hotel bar instead.

(Friday 4th August)

All About Preservation

I have entered this evening’s Castle Rock 10k, which was known for most of its existence as the Jagermeister 10k. it is basically two laps of the campus at Nottingham University. It’s not particularly thrilling and certainly not flat but it’s a good workout.

It’s also a workout I need. Amazingly I’m feeling uninjured and slightly confident for it. Probably won't last though.

I take the bus to work and then hop off outside the Uni on my way home. I collect my number and then commence a huge warm up which is all about calf preservation. L informs me she is on the way up with the dogs, which could take a while given Doggo’s elderly gait. She also tells me to make it quick as she wants to get back for the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I sincerely hope she’s got her times mixed up as I believe due to the time difference it doesn't start until midnight.

The race HQ is on the grassland opposite the Sports Centre where it usually starts. The Sports Centre is closed and being rebuilt yet again. This seems to be almost an annual occurrence so soaked in money these Unis appear to be these days.

We set off and I soon see L and the boys by the Nottingham sign offering vociferous support. 

She shouts that one of our Thunder Run team mates is just ahead, so I put on a spurt and catch him. We exchange ‘pleasantries’ before I move on ahead, now of course feeling under pressure to stay there.

I try to maintain 45 minute pace all the way around and although at one point I was hopeful of dipping under that, it is what I ultimately achieve. I've got to be happy with that after running a 49 just a month ago at NotFast.

We skip the, not very tempting, Harvest Pale and head home. Ceremonies to watch and all that.

(Friday 5^th August)

Stopping The Traffic

L forgets her mobile, so perhaps today is the day she gets that puncture or it could be my turn. In honour of the first day of the Olympics I put on my Team GB kit and cycle to work and it’s good cycling weather with no wind.

Well I’m excited.

As I think is anybody who got off their bum to see the torch relay, which has convinced a lot of the waverers that something was happening and happening over here.

So today, two days before it starts, it starts. Quite how and why they have again mis-scheduled the opening ceremony to start after the start I’m not sure.

Great Britain's women football team kick off the Games against New Zealand and win in Cardiff... I’m also not sure of the merits of playing in places like Cardiff, which are so far away from London, but many will disagree with me.

L proposes the pub tonight rather than anything fitness related. I suggest we do both. So she frogmarches herself to the gym while I frog-cycle myself to the pool. It’s busy in the pool and end up only one lane above the bikini zone. In which a girl doing backstroke in the regulation uniform for those lanes literally stops the traffic. Enabling me to get in some unhindered lengths while everyone else rubbernecks. Clearly they can’t multitask.

L and I meet up later in the ‘pub formerly know as the Willougby’. We eat and have a drink there before we transfer to the Wheelhouse for the more serious Abbot Ale.

(Wednesday 25th July)