Because this, it seems, is firmly where I am in the hierarchy of the runners who are participating in the Great Edinburgh Run the weekend after next. Here... Check it out... Take a look at the picture of the start arrangements for this event. (I, as if any clarification were needed, have been assigned a place in the ‘pink’ wave).
Now, does it, or does it not, look just like a little pair of pants worn by Forrest Road and Bristo Place? And, there, I can assure you, is exactly where I’ll be – one of the many runners who have been assigned the official “Crap” label by the Great Run Organisation (don’t even get me started on those bastards) and thus being safely encased in the pink panty area of the run. (The question is where do I stand? Should I go for the end of one of the legs or the crotch? Oooh, decisions, decisions). Ironically, I would even have been wearing pink up until last Sunday.
Last Sunday something momentous happened. I made a new running T-shirt. Yes, MADE. Okay, I’m not very good at making things. I’ll admit it. But I was engulfed by a sudden new wave of enthusiasm for the runs and all the organisation behind the fundraising etc and so decided (since I’m skint – credit crunch and all) to make a new T-shirt. It’s all very punk rock and DIY. In fact, I wanted it to look very punk rock and went for a load of mismatched letters cut out from other old, unwanted T-shirts to spell out “Weston 100” and then my justgiving address at the bottom of the T-shirt (that was a bit harder – I wish I didn’t have such a long name. You try spelling “Val Derbyshire” out of just offcuts of old T-shirts.) I wanted it to look very Sex Pistols – I have a suspicion it’s more Blue Peter than Sex Pistols. It might even just be a bit rubbish, but I’m going to wear it anyway. I have to wear it for two reasons (1) I cannot afford the printing costs for another fundraising charity T-shirt – I was never really happy with the last one anyway so was reluctant to fork out more cash on it (2) I have nothing else to wear now that I have cut up most of my running T-shirts to make this one (Well I had to get all those letters to spell my ridiculously long name out from somewhere). So, the bottom line (ha, ha – bottom line – get it? Pants and all... Oh, never mind); The bottom line is that I’m going to be right at home in my crap home-made T-shirt in the crappy bottom pant-clad area of the start line of the Great Edinburgh Run.
But what, I hear you cry, caused this sudden spurt of new enthusiasm? Well, maybe not cry, but I’ll tell you anyway. Last Saturday I sat next to a new bloke during my shift at William Hill. Now all sorts of people work there for all sorts of reasons, but this bloke was working there because he was using the income from his part-time job to finance his training as a discus thrower. Now, I’ve never met a discus thrower before, or indeed anyone who is as serious about athletics and training to be an athlete of an international standard as he was. He was utterly focussed and determined upon his ambition of reaching the goals he had set for himself. It did me good to sit next to him (even if he did smirk in a somewhat patronising way when I told him about the amateur standard road races I have done – he’s probably entitled to feel a bit smug about our comparative athletic abilities – I, after all, was not the one drinking creatine shakes during break time – I went for the slightly less recognised sports diet of eating a bit of Easter Egg filched from the kids’ stash). Anyway, it did me good to hear him talk about his ambitions and his training plans and it motivated me to get up early on Sunday morning and do a 12 mile training run because I thought, if he can be that focussed and determined, then I can get through this challenge too. He, after all, was talking about dedicating his whole life to it. It’s only about a year out of my life. This time in six months’ time it will all be over. (Fill in your own "Thank God")
Last Sunday something momentous happened. I made a new running T-shirt. Yes, MADE. Okay, I’m not very good at making things. I’ll admit it. But I was engulfed by a sudden new wave of enthusiasm for the runs and all the organisation behind the fundraising etc and so decided (since I’m skint – credit crunch and all) to make a new T-shirt. It’s all very punk rock and DIY. In fact, I wanted it to look very punk rock and went for a load of mismatched letters cut out from other old, unwanted T-shirts to spell out “Weston 100” and then my justgiving address at the bottom of the T-shirt (that was a bit harder – I wish I didn’t have such a long name. You try spelling “Val Derbyshire” out of just offcuts of old T-shirts.) I wanted it to look very Sex Pistols – I have a suspicion it’s more Blue Peter than Sex Pistols. It might even just be a bit rubbish, but I’m going to wear it anyway. I have to wear it for two reasons (1) I cannot afford the printing costs for another fundraising charity T-shirt – I was never really happy with the last one anyway so was reluctant to fork out more cash on it (2) I have nothing else to wear now that I have cut up most of my running T-shirts to make this one (Well I had to get all those letters to spell my ridiculously long name out from somewhere). So, the bottom line (ha, ha – bottom line – get it? Pants and all... Oh, never mind); The bottom line is that I’m going to be right at home in my crap home-made T-shirt in the crappy bottom pant-clad area of the start line of the Great Edinburgh Run.
But what, I hear you cry, caused this sudden spurt of new enthusiasm? Well, maybe not cry, but I’ll tell you anyway. Last Saturday I sat next to a new bloke during my shift at William Hill. Now all sorts of people work there for all sorts of reasons, but this bloke was working there because he was using the income from his part-time job to finance his training as a discus thrower. Now, I’ve never met a discus thrower before, or indeed anyone who is as serious about athletics and training to be an athlete of an international standard as he was. He was utterly focussed and determined upon his ambition of reaching the goals he had set for himself. It did me good to sit next to him (even if he did smirk in a somewhat patronising way when I told him about the amateur standard road races I have done – he’s probably entitled to feel a bit smug about our comparative athletic abilities – I, after all, was not the one drinking creatine shakes during break time – I went for the slightly less recognised sports diet of eating a bit of Easter Egg filched from the kids’ stash). Anyway, it did me good to hear him talk about his ambitions and his training plans and it motivated me to get up early on Sunday morning and do a 12 mile training run because I thought, if he can be that focussed and determined, then I can get through this challenge too. He, after all, was talking about dedicating his whole life to it. It’s only about a year out of my life. This time in six months’ time it will all be over. (Fill in your own "Thank God")
So I went out and ran 12 miles on Sunday. I had to stop four times (once for a coughing fit – not a good sign); the second time to get a dextrose energy tablet out (longer distances merit these, I feel); the third and fourth times to answer calls about the mother-in-law who had apparently fainted (don’t take a phone out with you if you run. I know there’s a safety aspect there, but it’s much easier not to have to deal with these problems when you’re 7 miles into a 12 mile run).
Why was I running so far? Well, this Sunday – yes, that’s in 3 days’ time!!! – I’m running the Sheffield Half-Marathon. Yes, my first half-marathon event. At least this one is a big one. I’ll get lost in the crowd of 5,499 other people who are running it along with me. This, however, will not happen in the Buxton Half-Marathon, which incidentally, requires a run up several very large hills – No, sadly, in this event of around 250 people (most of them serious runners and members of athletics clubs) my ineptitude is going to be glaringly obvious – perhaps they’d like to start thinking about their pants-shaped wave start now too. Anyway, look out for me in Sheff if you’re passing through this Sunday. Lots of the roads will be closed so there will be traffic chaos everywhere I should have thought. I’m number 2485, but you’ll recognise the Sex Pistols/Blue Peter style running garb anyway.
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