I was looking forward very fondly to today. To be honest the last couple of weeks have been a slog. By my standards the last 15 weeks have been tough going. I’ve hit every weekly mileage target but the programme has become a slog. Out of the window has gone any thought of quality or speed – it’s just been a question of dogging out the miles set by Mr Higdon. Mentally I’ve had to lift myself to sustain the effort and again I wonder at and admire those ‘proper’ runners that churn out 120+mpw when I’m topping out today in the mid 40s. And I don’t have a family or a long commute and extended work hours to work around!
So anyway it was a fine Jersey morning and I decided to dispense with the iPod for once as I set off up the well-worn track to Corbiere. My PMP is still provisionally 10m/m and, after 10.22 two weeks ago in my first 20-miler I was hoping to get a bit closer today to set myself up for Cork. Onto the Railway Walk and up towards Les Quennevais I didn’t feel great but quite often I only find a rhythm at about five miles. Thankfully I dropped the water bottle by the hedge as I headed off on a circuit of the cycle track – this was a racecourse up until about 1960. The Les Quennevais Sports Centre has since been developed superbly and, apart from the indoor centre, there are facilities for tennis, netball, soccer, rugby and cricket as well as softball. In addition the petanque and croquet clubs have been able to set up headquarters here. Back onto the old railway line and on to Corbiere where I ditch the water bottle again. I did have a belt which accommodated a water bottle but this lies with lots more non-essential possessions in my friend Joan’s house in Cork; have you seen what the airlines charge for luggage these days? As it was I had to sweet-talk the girl at the Aer Lingus desk in December to avoid an excess charge.
Onto the first of three 2.3 mile loops of Petit Port and, after the first uphill slog I suddenly found a bit of life in my legs. I completed the three loops as the morning traffic increased, notably the motor bike convoys that roar about on a Sunday. With the help of NutriGrains and Jelly Babies I got around the loops OK and retrieved my now half-empty water bottle and headed for home with about 14 miles done. However I was now suffering a bit with achy upper arms and shoulders. I’m not sure why I sometimes get this but it is not pleasant. Neither is it helped by toting water and, after a final swig, I tossed the bottle aside. I feel very guilty about littering but such is the litter problem in Jersey I suppose my unusual lapse won’t make much difference. I was pleased with the way I was able to hang on over the latter miles, now battling against the tide of charity walkers and cyclists along the seafront. Back home without any walk breaks – 20.27 miles in 3:33.03 = 10.31m/m. In truth I’m a bit disappointed with that pace, albeit that route has its share of climbs. On the plus side the run got done and, on the face of it, the marathon ought to get done if my approach on the day is correct.
So it’s taper time, though Mr Higdon is still calling for 32 miles next week, with the Hash Half Marathon next Sunday. It will be interesting to see if I can produce anything near a 1:50 off the back of this period of heavy, slow miles.
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Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Bluebells, violets, snowdrops, buttercups...
It was my last chance of an ‘easy’ long run ahead of the CCM in four weeks time. Instead of the growing torture of the Railway Walk I headed north on this the 65th anniversary of the liberation of Jersey from Nazi occupation. Heading up Westmount Road I was, as usual, looking everywhere except where I was going. Over to the left is Overdale Hospital but I was more interested in recollecting that Alderney won their one and only Muratti Cup on the football pitch that used to be there, many years ago. A few yards further on is the Crematorium and, within the grounds, a memorial to the slave workers who toiled and often died under the Germans during the war. It served me right when I went over painfully on my ankle on the kerb at that point. Painful though it was it was never going to be a game-breaker and I managed to hobble on and ran it off within a few minutes.
Settling down after the uphill and injury-stricken start I headed up towards St John taking the left before Hautes Croix into Les Chenolles. It was there that I realised what a profusion of hedgerow flowers are around at the moment. Add to these the further colours of the flowers growing in the gardens of the many posh properties out here in the country. Being a townie I can’t name a single one of them. Nevertheless I feel sorry for those that can’t spare the time to appreciate the simpler pleasures of life.
Turning left onto the St Lawrence Main Road you take your life in your hands, but that was solved as I needed to find some miles and I hung a right at St John’s Manor and took the quiet roads to circle back to the main road at Carrefour Selous. Here until quite recently there stood the great old Carrefour Selous pub. Now it is a private house and I hope fervently that the owners periodically suffer from a maddening thirst and have to travel several miles from there to slake it.
Across the road and along towards Hamptonne but, glancing at the Garmin, I need to extend the run again to get a full 12 miles in. So I loop right and back across the main road into Mont Sorsoleil. Turning right down a ‘green lane’ there is a surprise, which is always likely in Jersey. It is a ‘no entry except for access’ and soon I see why. Trotting past the big house the lane narrows to no more than a couple of feet wide and it snakes around the back of the property so that one feels like a trespasser. But you pop out into the lanes again to go past an old parish ‘pompe’ before emerging once more at Carrefour Selous.
Once more across the main road and this time headed for home. Past Hamptonne, one of the jewels in the crown of the Island’s heritage, sadly closed right now for economic reasons. Down the quiet and familiar Waterworks Valley still admiring the wildlife. Onto the inner road and back through St Andrew’s Park. 12.7 miles in 2:08, about 10.08m/m and as relaxing and enjoyable a run as you can imagine.
Settling down after the uphill and injury-stricken start I headed up towards St John taking the left before Hautes Croix into Les Chenolles. It was there that I realised what a profusion of hedgerow flowers are around at the moment. Add to these the further colours of the flowers growing in the gardens of the many posh properties out here in the country. Being a townie I can’t name a single one of them. Nevertheless I feel sorry for those that can’t spare the time to appreciate the simpler pleasures of life.
Turning left onto the St Lawrence Main Road you take your life in your hands, but that was solved as I needed to find some miles and I hung a right at St John’s Manor and took the quiet roads to circle back to the main road at Carrefour Selous. Here until quite recently there stood the great old Carrefour Selous pub. Now it is a private house and I hope fervently that the owners periodically suffer from a maddening thirst and have to travel several miles from there to slake it.
Across the road and along towards Hamptonne but, glancing at the Garmin, I need to extend the run again to get a full 12 miles in. So I loop right and back across the main road into Mont Sorsoleil. Turning right down a ‘green lane’ there is a surprise, which is always likely in Jersey. It is a ‘no entry except for access’ and soon I see why. Trotting past the big house the lane narrows to no more than a couple of feet wide and it snakes around the back of the property so that one feels like a trespasser. But you pop out into the lanes again to go past an old parish ‘pompe’ before emerging once more at Carrefour Selous.
Once more across the main road and this time headed for home. Past Hamptonne, one of the jewels in the crown of the Island’s heritage, sadly closed right now for economic reasons. Down the quiet and familiar Waterworks Valley still admiring the wildlife. Onto the inner road and back through St Andrew’s Park. 12.7 miles in 2:08, about 10.08m/m and as relaxing and enjoyable a run as you can imagine.
Westaways and Murratis
My Saturday mornings invariably used to be spent at the track, usually coaching or at least mixing with the track crowd. I’ll get back to that at some stage I think, but in the meantime I’ve developed other little interests. One of these is local history and this Saturday I spent a couple of hours in the library reading Daff Noel’s historical novel ‘The Poor Shall Inherit.’ The subject is the Westaway family whose name is well known to this day due to the trusts named after them. In particular generations of Protestant schoolchildren of the working classes benefitted from vouchers entitling them to ‘Westaway Shoes’, though, due to their hard-wearing functionality, said children weren’t always grateful when being fitted out for them.
Anyway Ms Noel’s novel describes how Nathaniel Westaway came to Jersey in the early years of the 19th century, married and had five children, though one son died early. He was a master builder and lived in town in Don Street next to his builder’s yard. As he advanced in years he sold the business and moved his family to the outskirts of town. This home was one of six he had built in a crescent in the Le Coie area at the foot of St Saviour’s Hill. In the meantime he had gifted a house in Belmont Road to his eldest son John, who turned out, according to Ms Noel, to be the black sheep.
Not knowing either of these properties I went for a little walk en route to the match at Springfield. John’s house in Belmont Road, Surrey Lodge, is now a guest house that I must have walked past a hundred times. It’s nondescript from the outside and indistinguishable from many others. So onwards in search of St Saviour’s Crescent, Nathaniel’s second home. And there it is on the main St Saviour’s Road, a little set back. There used to be gardens in front but of course that is now parking. The Westaway home is no.1, detached and the one furthest from town. I stood and gawped like I’d never seen a rather neglected Victorian crescent before. But I’m fascinated now by these places which we mainly ignore as we pass by but which have such a place in our history.
The Westaways used to walk in a nearby meadow called the Spring Fields. Today at Springfield Jersey hosted Guernsey in the annual Muratti. (Each year Alderney host one or other of their rival islands in the semi-final but the only question is the margin of defeat.) I’ve not been to a local footy match for a few years and the quality has not improved in the meantime. Guernsey deservedly won 1-0 but only because of a brainstorm by the Jersey goalie who brought down the Guernsey striker after the ball had been played well away from danger. I was pleased that Jersey didn’t force extra time. By that stage I was well fed up with the aggressive posturing of the rival island youths, and the unpleasant ‘banter’ of many older blokes, from both islands, who ought to grow up. In fact some of the banter was passably witty and I might be less grumpy if every such exchange wasn’t spiced with f*ck, f*ckin’ and variations thereon. I’m not sure why I’m so girlie about this as I followed Birmingham City through most of the 60s and 70s, and those occasions weren’t Sunday School outings. Maybe it’s being involved in athletics where the competition is hard but done with respect has got me this way.
Anyway Ms Noel’s novel describes how Nathaniel Westaway came to Jersey in the early years of the 19th century, married and had five children, though one son died early. He was a master builder and lived in town in Don Street next to his builder’s yard. As he advanced in years he sold the business and moved his family to the outskirts of town. This home was one of six he had built in a crescent in the Le Coie area at the foot of St Saviour’s Hill. In the meantime he had gifted a house in Belmont Road to his eldest son John, who turned out, according to Ms Noel, to be the black sheep.
Not knowing either of these properties I went for a little walk en route to the match at Springfield. John’s house in Belmont Road, Surrey Lodge, is now a guest house that I must have walked past a hundred times. It’s nondescript from the outside and indistinguishable from many others. So onwards in search of St Saviour’s Crescent, Nathaniel’s second home. And there it is on the main St Saviour’s Road, a little set back. There used to be gardens in front but of course that is now parking. The Westaway home is no.1, detached and the one furthest from town. I stood and gawped like I’d never seen a rather neglected Victorian crescent before. But I’m fascinated now by these places which we mainly ignore as we pass by but which have such a place in our history.
The Westaways used to walk in a nearby meadow called the Spring Fields. Today at Springfield Jersey hosted Guernsey in the annual Muratti. (Each year Alderney host one or other of their rival islands in the semi-final but the only question is the margin of defeat.) I’ve not been to a local footy match for a few years and the quality has not improved in the meantime. Guernsey deservedly won 1-0 but only because of a brainstorm by the Jersey goalie who brought down the Guernsey striker after the ball had been played well away from danger. I was pleased that Jersey didn’t force extra time. By that stage I was well fed up with the aggressive posturing of the rival island youths, and the unpleasant ‘banter’ of many older blokes, from both islands, who ought to grow up. In fact some of the banter was passably witty and I might be less grumpy if every such exchange wasn’t spiced with f*ck, f*ckin’ and variations thereon. I’m not sure why I’m so girlie about this as I followed Birmingham City through most of the 60s and 70s, and those occasions weren’t Sunday School outings. Maybe it’s being involved in athletics where the competition is hard but done with respect has got me this way.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Twenty miler #1
It took me a little while to get my ass out of the door for my long run on Sunday. Maybe it was because it was the first of two 20-milers ahead of the Cork City Marathon in five weeks time. Also the weatherman was promising cold northerlies which are never inviting. Eventually it was only the realisation that I’d miss the Man City v Chelsea radio commentary if I didn’t get started got me out of the door.
I needn’t have worried. I held back the pace jogging up to St Aubin and onto the Railway Walk. The Spartan 10-miler was coming the opposite way and it was nice to hear, from one of the tail end ladies who I didn’t recognise a ‘good to have you back!’ Four miles gets one to the cycle track at Les Quennevais and I took a circuit of that to add the mile that I’d need for the full distance. Then I absolutely glided down to Corbiere realising that running is, very occasionally, easy. I was really in the zone for a while there albeit I was still trying to stay slower than 10m/m. I dropped off my water bottle at the end of the track. This is at the old Corbiere Station that has been wonderfully modernised and sits on the market for a cool £2.3m! Three loops around Petit Port followed, each of 2.3 miles. There is a steep drop away from Corbiere but of course the corresponding uphill follows. Despite an energy bar and several Jelly Babies I was no longer in the zone as, after about 14 miles, I headed for home.
I’m beginning to hate the slog up what is a gentle enough slope from Corbiere back to Les Quennevais. It always comes when my resistance is at its lowest. However I count it as good mental training. My legs were definitely a lot weaker by the time I hit St Aubin again and plodded the couple of miles home. It wasn’t at all comfortable in the end but 20.15 @ 10.22m/m is pretty satisfactory. Just one more of those to come in a fortnight’s time.
I needn’t have worried. I held back the pace jogging up to St Aubin and onto the Railway Walk. The Spartan 10-miler was coming the opposite way and it was nice to hear, from one of the tail end ladies who I didn’t recognise a ‘good to have you back!’ Four miles gets one to the cycle track at Les Quennevais and I took a circuit of that to add the mile that I’d need for the full distance. Then I absolutely glided down to Corbiere realising that running is, very occasionally, easy. I was really in the zone for a while there albeit I was still trying to stay slower than 10m/m. I dropped off my water bottle at the end of the track. This is at the old Corbiere Station that has been wonderfully modernised and sits on the market for a cool £2.3m! Three loops around Petit Port followed, each of 2.3 miles. There is a steep drop away from Corbiere but of course the corresponding uphill follows. Despite an energy bar and several Jelly Babies I was no longer in the zone as, after about 14 miles, I headed for home.
I’m beginning to hate the slog up what is a gentle enough slope from Corbiere back to Les Quennevais. It always comes when my resistance is at its lowest. However I count it as good mental training. My legs were definitely a lot weaker by the time I hit St Aubin again and plodded the couple of miles home. It wasn’t at all comfortable in the end but 20.15 @ 10.22m/m is pretty satisfactory. Just one more of those to come in a fortnight’s time.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Crusaders junior relay teams in Nenagh
It was great to hear news of the young Crusaders who qualified for the national relays finals at Nenagh recently. Last year it was the U12 and U13 girls that shlepped up to Magherafelt. They finished 9th and 7th respectively and we had a great day.
This year the girls are, of course, a year older and therefore they formed U13 and U14 teams. Both again qualified for the finals from the Dublin Championships. This year the U12 boys qualified alongside them, the results being as follows.
U12B – Allen, Barry, Saunders, Walsh 6th
U13G – Doran, Ferry (N), O’Leary, Shields 6th
U14G – Barry, Deevy, McGuill, Murray 8th
My correspondent, coach Moira Loschler, tells me that once again a great time was had by all. The kids especially enjoyed running on the banked boards at Nenagh. Maybe it’s because the Crusaders’ junior section is so new but it’s a feature that all the youngsters genuinely seem to love the sport and competition in particular.
I’ll be seeing them all again in June and I can’t wait!
This year the girls are, of course, a year older and therefore they formed U13 and U14 teams. Both again qualified for the finals from the Dublin Championships. This year the U12 boys qualified alongside them, the results being as follows.
U12B – Allen, Barry, Saunders, Walsh 6th
U13G – Doran, Ferry (N), O’Leary, Shields 6th
U14G – Barry, Deevy, McGuill, Murray 8th
My correspondent, coach Moira Loschler, tells me that once again a great time was had by all. The kids especially enjoyed running on the banked boards at Nenagh. Maybe it’s because the Crusaders’ junior section is so new but it’s a feature that all the youngsters genuinely seem to love the sport and competition in particular.
I’ll be seeing them all again in June and I can’t wait!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
A Jersey Tragedy
I came across a sad little story when doing a little local historical research. This occurred way back in August 1934. For a few years in the '30s, before Jersey Airport was built, planes used to land on the beach at West Park. This was of course the dawning of the age of commercial air travel and Jersey Airways at the time offered flights to and from London (Heston), Portsmouth and Rennes.
(The first aircraft actually landed on the beach in 1912, but this was as part of a French race. The pilot apparently got very fed up with the Jersey folk mobbing his plane, preventing him from taking off again and costing him the race.)
Of course Health & Safety didn't have capital letters in those days. If a plane was expected, or was ready to take off, people were just shooed away a bit. Anyway it was late one Saturday afternoon and the aircraft St Ouen's Bay lined up to take off to the west. As it gathered power it slewed to the right. The captain was unable to straighten up or to halt the aircraft. It hit a nine-year old lad, name of Denis Dutot, and killed him more or less outright, with his friend being badly hurt. It was the first aviation-related death in Jersey.
I wonder if the descendants of the lad's family still live in Jersey? I might do the research in due course. In the meantime I hope young Denis is resting in peace.
(The first aircraft actually landed on the beach in 1912, but this was as part of a French race. The pilot apparently got very fed up with the Jersey folk mobbing his plane, preventing him from taking off again and costing him the race.)
Of course Health & Safety didn't have capital letters in those days. If a plane was expected, or was ready to take off, people were just shooed away a bit. Anyway it was late one Saturday afternoon and the aircraft St Ouen's Bay lined up to take off to the west. As it gathered power it slewed to the right. The captain was unable to straighten up or to halt the aircraft. It hit a nine-year old lad, name of Denis Dutot, and killed him more or less outright, with his friend being badly hurt. It was the first aviation-related death in Jersey.
I wonder if the descendants of the lad's family still live in Jersey? I might do the research in due course. In the meantime I hope young Denis is resting in peace.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Bad run
These bad runs come at inexplicable times. There’s usually no pattern or apparent cause. And if you always felt this way during a run no one in their right mind would do it. You’d go and do something else energetic and outdoors-based but without having to reach so deep for remaining resolve and physical reserves.
This isn’t a whinge. There’s a training log on boards.ie that’s headed ‘The Moaniness of the Long Distance Runner’, a great title. But generally there’s not a lot of whinging in the running community – you know what you are getting into so there’s no sympathy and nor should there be.
After a good running week I set off in good spirits yesterday, 18 miles the target in 10.30m/m, iPod on shuffle, water in hand and a couple of energy shots on my belt. Within a mile or two I knew it was going to be one of ‘those’ runs where it’s going to be no fun and where you just have to grit it out. From First Tower, up the Railway Walk and a lap around the cycle track at Les Quennevais to make up the mileage. Onto Corbiere and two loops around Petit Port before heading back on the return journey. It was like the Burma Road and, by the time I staggered back in the door, the 18 miles had taken me 3:19 = 11.02m/m.
I haven’t felt quite as bad afterwards since completing the Longford Marathon. Legs cramping and spasming, sick and dizzy, needing to eat and drink but not having the strength to do so. But as at Longford everything returned to relative normality after an hour or so.
The plus points are (1) all runs aren’t quite as bad, (2) I did get the 18 miles done with very few walk breaks and (3) the warm weather was good acclimatisation for the usual Cork heatwave! Seven weeks to go, flying conditions permitting.
This isn’t a whinge. There’s a training log on boards.ie that’s headed ‘The Moaniness of the Long Distance Runner’, a great title. But generally there’s not a lot of whinging in the running community – you know what you are getting into so there’s no sympathy and nor should there be.
After a good running week I set off in good spirits yesterday, 18 miles the target in 10.30m/m, iPod on shuffle, water in hand and a couple of energy shots on my belt. Within a mile or two I knew it was going to be one of ‘those’ runs where it’s going to be no fun and where you just have to grit it out. From First Tower, up the Railway Walk and a lap around the cycle track at Les Quennevais to make up the mileage. Onto Corbiere and two loops around Petit Port before heading back on the return journey. It was like the Burma Road and, by the time I staggered back in the door, the 18 miles had taken me 3:19 = 11.02m/m.
I haven’t felt quite as bad afterwards since completing the Longford Marathon. Legs cramping and spasming, sick and dizzy, needing to eat and drink but not having the strength to do so. But as at Longford everything returned to relative normality after an hour or so.
The plus points are (1) all runs aren’t quite as bad, (2) I did get the 18 miles done with very few walk breaks and (3) the warm weather was good acclimatisation for the usual Cork heatwave! Seven weeks to go, flying conditions permitting.
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