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Tumblin' Dice - September 26, 2004
Another humdrum weekend in the life of a Belgrave Harrier. Not!! Enough thrills and spills to keep even the most discerning palate happy. When the captain telephoned the team manager for a mid-race report of the SEAA 6-stage, he found a more than able replacement for Radio Five Live’s Alision Curbishley. I hung up after Alan’s roller-coaster report with sweaty palms and a parched mouth. Of course when we spoke again 45 minutes later, all was calmer thanks to yet another superb rescue job. Three years in a row now we’ve had a club throw everything they had at us, and we’ve responded each time. Great going guys, we’re all proud of you. (Jon wins the man-of-the-match by a cigarette paper over Kev. Jon unofficially won it last year, so here's to an official one - and yet another cracker from the kid).
I’ve always been a little iffy about the Great North Run. It has reminded me of the New York Marathon – where I have found, in my two experiences there, the seething mass of humanity just a tad OTT… Also there’s the hassle of getting up to Tyneside and finding somewhere to stay. The latter mission was always going to be way beyond my logistical capabilities, but I hit upon the city of York as a cunning place to stay. From there I could take the 6.57am train up to Newcastle on the Sunday morning - just 80 mins or so. But York was completely booked out too. No problem. I would stay in Sheffield, drive on to York, and then take the train up for the rest.
Ah, the best laid plans… I was supposed to leave my high stakes backgammon chouette at around 5pm on Saturday evening for the trip to Sheffield. But at 5pm I was losing badly. So I decided to play on until my luck changed. Which it did – handsomely – at 11.15pm. Time for plan B: Drive for 2½ hours, kip in car for 2-3 hours, and drive on to York to be in time to catch the 6.57am. I only made it to Marble Arch before the ludicrous folly of my plan became impossible to ignore. Time for plan C. The sensible one. Go home and get a good night’s sleep. This I did before rising at 6:30am with renewed zest, jumping in the car, driving like Jackie Stewart to Gatwick, jumping on a plane, and then into a cab, and arriving at the start a full 22 minutes early… I didn’t know what to do with myself – never been so early for a race.
It was a funny old run. 31:07 for 6 miles and then pinged a 9:58 split for miles 6-8. Whuh! Smokin’. But then the course bit back and the wind got up: over 11 mins for the next two miles and a dodgy 17 mins for last 5k. I got about 68:54, around 40 secs down on Andy Graffin, Dave Anderson 66-something. Not sure about Kassa yet. (Ed. 65:19?) Results in on Weds. One can’t ignore the Great North’s joie de vivre and sense of fun though – I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would, and definitely recommend it as at least a one-off.
My final rallying call for October 9, SURREY LEAGUE 1, Brockwell Park: Puhhhleasse be there! The season is off to such a terrific start; don’t let the “country” trip us up. For my part, I promise not to go within 100 feet of a pair of dice the night before.
