My shadow on the ground...

Following the (pagan) celebration of Candlemass Day yesterday, today the sun came out and I could not resist going out for a run. Given that I have been suffering from a dreadful cold for several weeks now and given that I have another operation looming; this time to remove a rather troublesome varicose vein on my right leg, you might understand if I said that, I have been rather depressed of late. Today however, that has changed. There has been a significant shift in my psyche and today, as I ran along the tracks and trails of Eelmoor Plain and Long Valley, I actually felt like a runner once more; an overweight runner maybe but a runner never the less. What brought this change about? Well several things happened yesterday. Firstly I had booked myself a therapeutic massage at my health club which was just divine; hot stones sliding up and down my troubled legs and aching back, followed by a facial scrub with gentle fingers working to remove both the physical and emotional impurities lodged in my head... and probably in my mind. My second treat of the day was to go and get my hair cut and scalp washed at my favourite Barbers - I don't have much hair, so I can't say 'hair washed', as my head is mostly scalp. The benefit though, is that as I emerge from the depths of the shop sink, I always feel that I have been born again! Then I found out that yesterday was Candlemass Day and given that it symbolises the mid-winter point and the promise of spring around the corner, complete with sunny sunshine, I was finally filled with hope and light. So when the sun came out today, I found myself out running and I saw my shadow on the ground.

A fun run in the sun...

Went for an unplanned run over Long Valley today with my friend Anne. I wasn't planning to go running today but I'm glad I did. In fact, when I got the call, by way of a text message arriving on my phone, I was sipping a post gym workout cappuccino while reading the paper and I was pretty damn sure that I wouldn't be moving for anyone! Some 60 minutes later there we were starting out on what turned out to be... a fun run in the sun. Long Valley lies between Aldershot and Fleet and runs roughly north/south from the Basingstoke Canal to Caesar's Camp. Being MOD land, it is regularly used by the army but as it is not used as a live firing range, it is also open to the public. This is the place where the GRIM takes place and where the James Bond movie, Die Another Day was filmed. Today there was plenty of army activity going on - troops marching, a whole army village camped up on some high ground surrounded by screening and razor wire, scaffold observation towers overlooking a large pond with water pumps and inflatable boats lying around on the ground below. We just had to take a closer look at it all but even then, we were really none the wiser, so on we ran. Less than a 1/2 a mile later, we stopped again, this time just to listen to the babbling of a small stream made up of water run off - it had been raining heavily overnight and water lay everywhere. The noise of the stream also made us aware of how quiet Long Valley can be regardless of what might be going on elsewhere. Even in these transient places, you can find respite from the slog of everyday life. Running on we came to a single track path meandering through a small belt of pines, which then spilt us out onto open heathland once more and into another army exercise area - this time fenced off with red tape and notices carrying warnings about the area being mined! The mines weren't real of course and not one soldier was to be seen. It was then we both heard the approaching sound of an engine. As it turned out the engine noise was coming from a quad bike that was laying a lure trail for the Sandhurst Drag Hunt and sure enough after a few minutes, we were treated to the sight and sound of a hunt in full progress - baying hounds, galloping horses and hunt horns sounding. As I said, a fun run in the sun.

Thanks Anne.

PS Sorry about the cloudy photo - I could not find a sunny one.

Sauna talk...

Went to my health club last night for a sauna and steam. Met 3 guys in there who I had not seen for a while and who were engaged in talking about the state of the nation; well, mainly it was a moan about the ex labour Chancellor and Prime minister, Gordon Brown, who almost single handedly ruined the UK pensions industry and took the country towards financial ruin. What a plonker! Plonkership politics of course, was already a trade mark of the labour government, as demonstrated so effectively by Mr Tony Blair; you know, the one who took us into an illegal war, made a lot of money from it and who was best mates with that, seen by some, American war criminal, George W Bush. When I look back at the Blair/Brown years, I can't help but come to the conclusion that they headed the worst government seen in decades and unfortunately it will take decades to recover from their combined stewardship of this country. I'm not that impressed by the coalition government we have in place right now, mind you but I'll bide my time for a while just to see how 'they' do. After 65 years of living on this planet of ours and being subjected to various forms of government; well, mostly those of either a labour or conservative persuasion, I can honestly say that I don't reside in any particular political camp and I await with interest to see how well our latest hybrid government performs - I wonder how many plonkers will come forth?

The Lady in the box...

Well, here we are again dealing with death and dying; this time dealing with the death of my mum on the 27 October 2010 - just 5 days after the death of Ellie the Deer Hound and just 3 days before her fifth great grandchild (third great grandson), Ruben, was born. As you can probably guess, my emotions have been on a bit of a roller coaster ride since then. In fact, the last 13 months have been rather traumatic, in that my sister (as in 'older'), found out that I was still alive and kicking after believing for 65 years that I was dead and buried; as a 5 year old, she had been told, on her return from grandparents, that I had suddenly died. This was a blatant lie of course, as I had actually been put up for adoption. My mum, who we are really dealing with here was the mum who adopted me and who, prior to my actual adoption, visited the home that my sister and I both shared for just a few weeks way back in 1945 and who just a few months before her death, some 65 years later, met my sister for the first time. I like to think that this meeting was meant to be and was a 'closing of the circle', so to speak. The blog heading 'The Lady in the box', was going to be the given name of my talk at mums funeral but I was persuaded that this might be seen as a bit irreverent by some, so it was changed to a talk based on Primo Levi's poem 'To My Friends'. You can read this poem in my blog called 'A poem for the third age', which was posted on the 28 May 2009. You can find it under the label, 'Poetry corner'. Why 'The Lady in the box'? Well for me, this reflective title signposted the importance and standing of the woman who, along with her husband (my Dad) gave me a home and, to all accounts, a better life than I might have had elsewhere. I guess that all I wanted to do, was to honour her by standing up and saying out loud to everyone present at her funeral -family, friends, acquaintances - that the lady in the box Is my mother.

'A person isn't who they are during the last conversation you had with them - they're who they've been throughout your whole relationship'.

Rainer Maria Rilke

On death and dying...

Today, I called the Vet in. I hated making the call, as making it was a confirming action that spelled acceptance of the inevitable; the inevitable being the approaching death of my Deer Hound, Ellie. Ellie had reached 11 years and 9 months of age - old for her breed - and was clearly uncomfortable with life. Ellie was already suffering from degenerative arthritis in both of her back legs and her lower back and she had suspected liver problems too. Her medication had helped to make things a lot easier but over the last couple of weeks her decline was noticeable and last night she became ill and had a look about her that said 'I'm just plain worn out'. Today, the Vet confirmed that Ellie had a very high temperature (42 and rising, instead of the normal 38) and that it was probable that this was linked to a growth in her liver. We had also noticed that she was dragging one of her rear paws which suggested that she was losing control of her legs and so, it was very clear, that for Ellie, the time had come to stop her suffering and say goodbye; such a painful thing to do. We could have opted for pain relief and infection control by way of steriods and antibiotics but this action would not have restored her leg functions and it would only serve our own selfish needs and not those of Ellie's. Ellie died in our garden on a sunny autumn day - a garden where she had spent many hours snoozing, usually with one eye open.

Inadequate and bald...

Yep, that's how I, as a blogger, have been described by the journalist and political commentator, Andrew Marr - Daily Mail, Tuesday October 12 2010 - Bloggers? They're inadequate and pimpled, says Andrew Marr. Well I suppose he is right about one thing; yes, I am bald but I am not inadequate or pimply, I'm not single, I'm not a young man, neither am I an angry ranting loony, nor am I sitting in my mother's basement - she doesn't have one anyway. Sure I've expressed anger in my blogs but not in the raving sense of the word. It's more like righteous anger expressed about those members of society who are the greedy hawks of this world and for some strange reason, think that they are wonderful and above the law. I have also looked at anger, as a phenomena that at times grips us all - and I mean all. It is my view that anyone who denies ever being angry is either in denial or is simply not aware of the corrupting power of internalised anger. Mr Marr's comments of course, were made during his lecture at this years Cheltenham Literature Festival where he was speaking about the decline of traditional journalism and his belief that 'Internet diarists and commentators will never offer a real replacement to newspapers and television news; 'most "citizen journalism" strikes me as nothing to do with journalism at all', the BBC political presenter said. Well, I've got news for Mr Marr. My blog, and I can only talk about my blog, has got nothing to do with journalism at all and it never was intended to be so. As it says on the main header, 'This blog is my garden shed, my thinking space. This where I can come and write down my thoughts, feelings, opinions and views on matters that might affect me. All here is valid. If you happen to read something here that you deem to be stupid, please remember that there is really no such thing as 'stupid', for even that description serves a worthy purpose by reinforcing and confirming that your own views are valid too.' Perhaps Mr Marr should read it some time and reflect. He may then stop knocking others just for the sake of pleasing his audience.

For further commentary about Mr Marr's remarks and his hypocrisy, take a look at the following link: http://www.libdemvoice.org/andrew-marr-a-little-bit-of-a-hypocrite-21556.html

Changeling...

Can it be, so soon after my previous blog, that I am suddenly faced with having to change my fancies and notions? I pride myself that in my mid 60's, I am still not set in my ways and that I can be open and responsive to new information and understandings; notice that I said, 'can be'. Even so, to have my running identity challenged so soon after confirming (mainly to myself) that I am a runner and not an athlete is rather alarming to say the least! Perhaps after some examination, I won't have to go as far as saying that following certain recent revelations, I must now accept that I am an athlete rather than seeing myself as 'just being a runner.' It might be easier though for me to broaden my self-view and accept that there is an athlete in me somewhere and that recently this athlete part of me, after some 20 years of just running, manifested itself quite strongly on both a cross-country course and running track somewhere in Portugal. What happened? Well, I guess that 'it' just didn't materialise on the XC course and track of its own accord. 'Its' materialisation was really just the end result of a process that had been going on for sometime - the process being subtle changes going on inside me vis a vis sorting my diet out, losing weight and coming out of a long period of injury recovery. This athlete in me then, manifested itself - I use the term 'itself', as it was nothing to do with me, at least not in a conscious way - through the phenomena of me actually changing up 2 gears and doing a sprint finish in a 6K handicap race (my coach said that he had 'never seen me sprint before') and in so doing becoming the first person to cross the finish line. I was aided mind you by the very close proximity of two much younger and faster runners than me; it's just that under the terms of the race, I started before them and I had just enough power left in me to make sure that it stayed that way - at least for the last 50 metres or so. This athlete part of me also manifested itself again (much to my consternation) while training on the local 400 metre track a few days later. The session consisted of a 10 minute threshold run, 6 x 200's at 5km pace and another 10 minute threshold run. I actually don't know what my 5k pace is, so I just ran a bit harder round the track and this led to Andi from Brighton, my running companion at the time, complaining that I looked as though I was not really putting much effort into the session. We decided - and I've heard this before - that my running style didn't really help matters, as it looks as though I'm just cruising along when in fact I am working quite hard. After some discussion, we agreed that this illusion was down to me not raising my arms high enough, so for the remaining 200's, I worked at using them properly. Of course, what happened? I ran faster and in a more upright position and suddenly the athlete in me was free and everyone on that track saw it happen. What happened? Well, I'm not sure really but I do remember running tall; shoulders back, head up, chin in, arms punching forward and suddenly, without warning, my leg speed/turnover - call it what you will - dramatically changed and there I was running sub 6 minute miles. Okay maybe only for a 100 metres or so but sub 6 never the less... and it was nothing to do with me! What's worse, is the fact that I actually enjoyed and got something from this track session. So much so, that I mean to seek out a running track local to my home so that I can do some more of these quality sessions... for that is what they are.

Thanks a bunch Andi.