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We don't like cross-country. We love it! - October 10, 2004

Eighty-eight million, eight-hundred and nineteen thousand, two hundred seconds.  That’s how long it’s been since the Bels last won a Surrey League match.  Or, if you’re bad with numbers, a little shy of three years.  Nine barren races.  Each one like a stake through my heart, accompanied as the defeats always are by an array of pithy witticisms by certain members of certain other clubs.  The banter was still in evidence yesterday, but Dave Symonds’ droll riposte as we shook hands after the race of: “nice to have some competition for a change!” shall only spur us on to greater heights.  And I’m sure yesterday’s somewhat sleepy beast of HHH shall be back roaring and spitting in match 2.

My particular thanks must go to Dave Anderson, whose presence yesterday was worth a lethal and match-winning 48 points, and who it seems may have paid a heavy price for his saint-like ways in the Great South today.  Thanks DA, who loves ya’ baby! 

The man of the match award goes to the “pitiless monster”…  And we used to be such good friends too.  I refer to Mr. Northern Lightning himself, Knut Hegvold, who had the undoubted blinder of the day to make mincemeat of around 10 hapless bodies over the second lap and smash 40 seconds off his pb for the course.  All this from a man who was around before The Beatles.  The reason I refer to Knut in less than glowing terms, is I’m sure just a temporary blip and has involved giving my training schedules over to him to set in my build-up for the Frankfurt Marathon.  A typical conversation will go:

“You know I’ve had a really tough week – well I was wondering if tomorrow’s hour on the treadmill at 18kph could be somewhat reduced.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“But an hour…that’s a heck of a grind.”

“So is the marathon.”

“But I struggle to concentrate for that long.”

“So we’ve noticed.”

“Well can I do three by twenty minutes?”

“No way man.”

“Two by half an hour?”

“Sorry.”

“One by 58:47?”

“Absolutely not.”

But the corner has been turned, Frankfurt is in sight, and somehow, I’m nearly ready.  A harsh coach Knut may be, but he’s also a damn good one.

I close by paying tribute to what a terrific – and thriving – event the Surrey League is: no-one can fail to notice how competitive it has become in the last few years.  Are Herne Hill making the Brockwell course a little shorter each year, or are the runners getting faster?  Maybe a bit of both, but these figures make for startling reading:

What I do know is that the courses of 2002 and ’04 were nearly identical because I’m in precisely the same shape as I was two years ago, and my times are within a second of each other.  So, if 20^th place yesterday ran the same as 10^th place two years ago, a simple conclusion may be deduced:

The Surrey League is a darn sight more competitive than 24 months ago, and light years ahead of the class of ’99.  Tough guys only need apply.  We don’t like cross-country.  We love it!