My First Marathon

My first full marathon started in Brighton at 9:45am on Sunday 14th April 2019 but how did it end?

Build up
Training had gone pretty well. I missed a few planned longer runs in March but I had managed to run 20 miles three weeks before the marathon. The run had gone well up until the 16th mile but I started to run out of steam and water (well you can't have steam without water), then I started to lose my momentum towards the end as I had to keep stopping at road junctions. However, despite this I was feeling a bit confident. There would be plenty of water at the Brighton Marathon and I wouldn't need to stop at any traffic lights.

A week before Brighton I went for a 12 mile run and started to pick up a limp towards the end of this run. The feeling was similar to the pains I had in the build up to my first Half Marathon last year. This time it was my right leg rather than the left. I was worried.

I went for a deep tissue massage at Soma Rooms in Ealing Broadway. Apparently my hamstrings were very tight and I should have come in sooner. As the week progressed I did some stretches at home (as recommended by the masseuse Natalie) and went for a couple of slow gentle runs. No pain but I could feel niggles in places. I just had to hope I would be okay on the day. The pharmacist recommended that I take paracetamol and ibuprofen. Maybe Richard Ashcroft would be wrong, and the drugs do work.

Marathon Eve
We arrived in Brighton the day before the marathon. We were welcomed to Brighton by a blistery hailstorm. We walked along the sea front using the umbrella like a shield at the hails were flying at us horizontally. My lead cheerleader Ananya said "I'm going to seek shelter in this cafe". I was tempted to join her but I had to march on to pick up my race number and registration...I really wished they had posted it to me like with other events I've run.

The pictures below were taken within 30 minutes of each other. British weather, huh?!

In the evening we met up with my Dad and Liz. We visited a couple of pubs around Worthing where we were all staying. I was on pints (of water) having been on the wagon since April 1st. We went for a lovely Italian meal at a place called Aqua so I could carb up with some pasta.

Pre-race
Ananya dropped me off nice and early to Preston Park where the race would start. I was there for 8am with the race start time at 9:45am. We wanted to beat the traffic and to ensure there was parking available in the car park in town.

It was bitterly cold in the park but I tried to keep warm by moving about. I was also getting messages of support from friends and family, notably from my Mum, my brothers who got me into running, my cousin Neal who sent me a video of his daughter Amelia wishing me luck whilst singing "I'm a little tea pot" (in reference to the picture below) and my boss Hugh, who told me to saviour the moment. These messages meant a lot to me, they helped to keep me warm and relaxed.

I got talking to one of the volunteers, who had been there since 6am. She told me this was the best shift as she could leave at 11am. Whereas the other volunteers along the route had to stay until 6pm. I was amazed at the hundreds of volunteers who had taken time out of their weekend to support the event.

I also got talking to a young bearded chap called Matt who was running for Mind. This was his first marathon too and was feeling a bit nervous. The longest he had ever run was 12 miles.

After parking the car and much needed coffee Ananya phoned me to say she wouldn't be able to make it to Preston Park before the race but had something for me and she would be waiting beside the traffic lights outside the park. I was touched that she got something for me and couldn't wait to see her.

The Start
With 15 minutes to go I went into my starting pen. I was in the blue pen with the aim of completing the marathon between 3.5 and 4 hours. My pace in training suggested I could achieve this.

As the race got underway I was looking at various traffic lights on the route to try and spot Ananya. Finally after running around the outside of Preston Park, I saw the biggest smile ever...it was Ananya. She leaned over the barrier to hand me a couple of protein bars, which was such a lovely gesture. We embraced and then I went on my way again. Just 24 miles to go at this point.

Mile 6
The race had been going well so far. An amazing atmosphere running through the Brighton town centre with the crowds cheering us all the way.

The 6th mile is just after the marina going uphill. It is here where I started to feel my first bit of pain. My right hip had started to get a bit painful and reminded me of the feeling I started to get before limping on my 12 miler. It was too soon to limp out of the marathon, so I slowed my pace down and tried to find a footing that would be comfortable. After a while I got through this and I was back being okay but I didn't want to overdo it.

Mile 11
Running down the hill now, there were some interesting runners going in the opposite direction. There was a lady running up with a baby pram. I couldn't see if there was a real baby in it but there was a pink leg poking out. I also saw a stormtrooper as well as Batman and Robin. I then saw a guy running up in a heavy looking rhino costume.

What I loved about this section was the runners going down the hill were encouraging the runners going up the hill by cheering out their names. It was warming to see such a great community spirit amongst the runners. There were plenty of examples of this throughout the day.

Mile 13
I started to feel better and more confident as I approached the 13th mile and the half way point. Going downhill certainly helped as recorded my fasted pace time. The crowds were very loud at this point with everyone cheering the runners on and cheering out their names.

I heard someone shout "TONY"...I looked to the side and I could see Ananya smiling and waving again. It felt good to see her again. I could see she was so proud of me.

A little bit further up, I saw my Dad and Liz waving and cheering for me! It was such a great feeling to see them there supporting me. They looked so happy to see me too, I could see I was doing them proud.

Miles 16 to 19
This part of the run was very stop/start for me. I was feeling good up until this point but then my hip went again causing me to limp. I tried to keep running but the pain was sharp. The crowds along the street were shouting at me to keep going, I tried but it was too sharp. I stopped for some water and then walked slowly. The pain subsided so I started off again slowly getting into my stride. The legs felt stiff but I somehow managed to get going again. Then after I while the pain crept back in so I started walking before attempting to run again.

Towards the end of this section the pain got too much and I couldn't even walk. I had to stop. I refused to sit down because I knew wouldn't be able to get up again. Even though I had stopped my hip was still painful. I was starting to think that my race was over. I was 10 miles away from the finishing line. I can't even walk to it.

I tried to stretch but in the end I could only move my hips a little. Where I had stopped there was a slight downward slope, so I thought I would give it another try. I grimaced in pain as I started to walk but I kept going. Then I started to pick up the pace a bit as I went down the slope. I was running stiffly but at least I was moving. The pain became a manageable numbness.

Miles 20 - 23
This area is affectionately known as the Dead Zone, it's a very quiet area of the route that wouldn't look out of place in the Walking Dead, especially with all us runners beginning to resemble zombies as we start to drag our feet. There are no crowds here to cheer us on. Just warehouses presumably for the fisherman as there was a fishy smell in the air.

Around here I saw a runner wearing a t-shirt that read "52 Marathons in 52 weeks". This was my first in 40 odd years and I was struggling.

A strong wind was blowing in this section. It was a cold wind but it was more of hindrance rather than being refreshing. It was sunny now but there was no warmth.

In this section a lot of runners were pulling up and stopping. I saw one runner going in the opposite direction with a cup of water, I can only guess he was bringing it to someone who had stopped. Another example of the community spirit.

The finishing straight
As I got closer and closer to the finishing line, the crowds were getting bigger and louder. I wasn't sure where the finishing line was going to be. I guessed it would be at Brighton Pier but it looked too far away.

Around the British Airways i360, I spotted My Dad, Liz and Ananya cheering and waving me on. I started to feel a bit emotional at this point...I was so happy to see them. Their support was amazing without them I may have quit when I was struggling earlier.

With less than a mile to go I saw the heart-breaking sight of runners being stretched out on the road receiving medical attention with ice packs on their legs. To get so far and not being able to finish was heart wrenching for me but I tried not to dwell on it for too long and I just focused on the finishing line.

I could now see the finishing line which was actually after the pier, the crowds were getting louder...as I crossed the finishing line I held my arms out as if I had won the thing. I was just relieved to have completed it, I had no idea of my time at this point.

I collected my medal and made my way through the freebies. I was also given a sheet of tin foil that made me look like a budget superhero but it helped to keep the body heat in.

A St John's Ambulance guy advised that the best thing to do is keep on moving. After running for over 4 hours it was the last thing I wanted to do but I slowly kept walking.

I eventually discovered that my finishing time was 4hrs 16mins 50seconds. Not the 4 hours I was aiming for but after my initial disappointment I am pleased with this time. I was just happy to finish in the end and it gives me a time to beat at next marathon.

Speaking of my next marathon...I've already signed up for my second one. I will be running the Bournemouth Marathon in October 2019.

Post-race
I eventually made my way to my cheer leading squad. We walked slowly through the crowds and made our way to Revolution for lunch and well deserved drinks. After not having a drink in two weeks the first beer went down very well. Mission Accomplished.

Acknowledgements
I ran the Brighton Marathon to raise money for the Alzheimer’s Society. At the time of writing I'm 52% above my target. I couldn't have done this without the generosity and support of so many people.

Although many of my supporters weren't in Brighton on the day, their messages of support were on my mind throughout and kept me going, without them I might have given into the pain.

Ananya
Dad and Liz
Mum, Ryan and Emma
Sean, Kelly, Sinead, Niamh and Darragh
Uncle Hugh
Uncle Joe
Auntie Helen and Tim
Auntie Imelda
Neal, Becky and Amelia
Stef, Em and Frank
Kelly and Ben
Deborah
Team Legend (aka Mike and Babs)
Martyn - my oldest mate from my Uni days cheering me on from Plymouth
Sarah - Another one of my Uni mates.
Residents of Lawrence Road
Not forgetting my teams at work past and present: Lisa, Anna, V, Hugh, Nikki, Salma, Farouk, Davina, Cristina and Ana.

I also want to give special thanks to my employer CMS for their generous donation.

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There's still time to sponsor me, if you haven't already, please see the link below if you would like to make a donation or to see why I chose the Alzheimer’s Society: www.justgiving.com/fundraising/tony-laskowski

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Running the Brighton Marathon to raise money for the Alzheimer's Society

Call me crazy but I've signed up for the Brighton Marathon in 2019. What's not crazy is that I will be running for the Alzheimer's Society. This is a cause that is close to my heart as I have experienced it through family members and I know friends have come across this in their families too. My Babcia (Nan) and Grandma passed away with forms of dementia so I will be running in their memory. My Grandad, my last surviving grandparent also has it. Growing up I remember watching the London Marathon with my Grandad. We would watch the start before going to church and then would return to watch the finishers. So the marathon has special memories for me.

I did enter the ballot for the London Marathon, which is a kind of lottery but sadly I wasn't lucky this time. There's around 50,000 places available with over 400,000 entering so it was always going to be tough. I will enter again next year. I've got a lifetime ambition to complete.

This year in 2018, I ran two half marathons – I ran the Hackney Half and the Ealing Half. It will be quite a challenge to run 26.2 miles (42.2 km) in one race but it's a challenge I'm relishing and I'm counting down to Sunday 14 April 2019. The Brighton Marathon is considered one of the top marathons in the UK and will be taking place two weeks before the London Marathon.

I'm running about 3 times a week at the moment covering up to 12 miles in total. The real training will be starting in December. I've found a 16 week training plan which starts awkwardly on the 23^rd December. I will do my best to work around the Festive Period but it won't be easy. I'm going to Thailand on the 27^th December for a week…so I will probably need to run along the beach. It's a tough life.

Going back to the training plan, there's so many out there but I found that this one by BUPA fits in more with my life style. I've always found it difficult to train on Mondays and Fridays – it just feels wrong.

I have set myself a target to complete this marathon in less than 4 hours. So the challenge will not just be about completeness, I also want to achieve a good finishing time for my first marathon. Let's not forget, this marathon is not only about me, I will be raising money for the Alzheimer's Society. Donations can be made be here.

Ealing Feeling - My second half marathon

On a warm spring day in May 2018, the day after the Royal wedding, I completed my first half marathon by finishing the Hackney Half with a respectable time of 2hr 9mins. Some five months later, on a cold and frosty September morning in Ealing, I was about to embark on my second half marathon of the year by running the Ealing Half.

This time I had set myself a target to finish the run in under 2 hours. The training build up suggested that I was on track to achieve this but there were a couple of factors against me. Some of the reviews I read about this run reported that it's a difficult route for those that want to beat their personal best times. This is due to the hills and the sometimes twisty circuit. The second factor, which almost made me quit the event, is I had a very heavy cold/flu the week leading up to the race. I missed work on Monday, Tuesday and Friday. I managed to go to work on the Wednesday and Thursday but it was a struggle and my cough was getting worse. Then on Saturday morning I was on my knees coughing in the lounge and it felt that the cough was never going to stop. When the coughing managed to subside, my chest and lungs felt so raw and sore. Oddly by the afternoon, I was feeling better, maybe the meds were starting to kick-in or maybe the body was in denial.

Sunday morning I woke up after managing to sleep through the whole night without coughing. I did have a mini coughing fit before heading to the shower but it managed to calm down quickly. After the shower I felt fit to run, although privately I felt only 75% fit but I headed off to the event area.

Home Turf

This running event was on 'home turf' with the Start line in Lamas Park, this is a short walk from my flat in Ealing. I reached the park just after 8am, there was a chill in the air, as well as the smell of Deep Heat. After I reluctantly took off my sweater I checked my bag into the baggage area…it was too cold to be in shorts and a t-shirt. Quite a contrast to my runs in the warmer months of May and June.

I wasn't feeling the chill for too much longer, as the pre-race warm-up session was about to start. The routines were fast paced and fun.

After the warm-up it was then time to walk towards the starting pens. Unlike my previous races, you weren't already designated, you could choose the pen for the time you think it would take you to finish the event. I went for the 2hrs pen. As I was edging to the front, there was a non-runner that had accidently got into the pen after seeing off his son. He asked if there is a way out…I joked there was no way out now and he would have to run!!

Ready…Set….

Whilst I was waiting, a couple of guys jumped over the gate to be with their friend. The friend asked how they were feeling…one of the guys replied "I've been for a shit three times this morning, so I'm feeling very light". Thanks for that image!

Go…

The race started on time at 9am, unlike my other races there wasn't a staggered start, everyone could just go. Most people were actually running towards the start line that was about 250 metres away, I chose to save my legs and just walked fast, then I launched into my stride as I approached the start line.

There was a lot of people traffic so I wasn't able to sprint away but this was probably for the best anyway as this helped to preserve my energy. Most of the race was like this. So I ended up running with the pack until I found a gap, then I would run into the gap and speed up until I caught up with another pack, this seemed to work quite well.

Community spirit

Every church around the route was giving out mini bottles of water for the runners. There was also a Gurdwara London Sikh Centre and a Fullers pub The Duke of Kent giving out bottles of water. This pub was the last one on the tea towel challenge, which I completed exactly a year ago with my Cousin Neal….but that's another story.

I overheard an elderly pedestrian ask one of the volunteers if they had any spare water. The girl said that she has about 200 bottles in that box and the guy was welcomed to help himself. So there was a great community spirit all around and this gesture warmed my heart...although it was pretty warm by this point anyway.

Haribo and Jelly babies

I've never seen so many…every street in the residential areas seemed to have kids eagerly holding out bowls of sweets for the runners.

Cow bells

There were a lot of cow bells at this event…made me think of the winter Olympics. 

Greenford Avenue hike

I read that it was highly recommended to include this road as part of the preparation for this event. The road has a long steep climb to the top. As part of my training, I would approach this road around the 3^rd mile mark of a 6 mile run. For the Ealing Half, I knew I would be hitting it on the 8^th mile. However, I knew this was the last of the three hills that the route would cover so I was eager to get it out of the way.

As I approached Greenford Avenue from Bordars Road…it looked a lot steeper than what I remembered. A few people stopped to walk up the hill without even trying to run up it…my legs were sore but I told myself to keep going…as I got to the half way point I imagined pulling myself with two hands up the hill with some rope.

I made it to the summit of what felt like Everest…then thankfully it was downhill to a road called Cuckoo Lane.

Thatched Cottage

Did you know there's a thatched cottage in Ealing? Neither did I. I marvelled at the cottage as I ran past it and thought I must tell Ananya about it. I still haven't.

12^th mile

Friends and family asked me where it would be best to cheer me on from. I suggested around the 12^th mile mark to give me that extra boost for the last mile and I expected to be there around 11am. I don't wear a watch when I run so I had no clue of the time. Every cluster of people I saw I was looking out for some familiar faces. I didn't see any, so I then thought they might be waiting for me at the finishing line inside Lamas Park.

Lammas Park

When I entered Lamas Park I knew the finishing line must be close….but it wasn't. Every corner I approached, I thought it must be around this next corner…but it wasn't. Then I saw a sign that said "500 metres to go"…so I stepped up my pace…but I could only manage this for another 50 metres or so. The legs were tiring…I almost tripped over a couple of times…then I went around the next corner and to my relief I could see the finish line so I started to push again…my legs were screaming at me to slow down but I kept on pushing regardless and finally I made it past the finishing line.

After I collected my medal and a bottle of water, I went off to find some space. I checked my phone and was surprised to see that I completed the Half Marathon in 1hr 48mins. I beat my previous time by 20mins. The time of day was only 10:50am so no wonder my cheerleaders weren't around…I was too quick for them!!

Learning of sad news in a happy place

Two weeks before running the Ealing Half Marathon, I went to Bournemouth for the weekend to visit my auntie Helen and her husband Tim. This would be my last drinking weekend before going on the wagon in preparation for the race. The three of us certainly made the weekend count. I arrived Friday night after work and we stayed up until 4am on Saturday morning. Despite feeling a bit rough when I finally surfaced out of bed around 9am, I was still keen to stick with my plan to go for a 6 miles run along the beach and then go for a dip in the sea.

I ventured down the stairs of my Aunt's apartment and on to the road beside the beach. I did my usual dynamic stretches before embarking on my run. As I was about to strap my phone to my arm I noticed that I had a message from my cousin Neal to say my Grandma had passed away. The news wasn't too much of a surprise as she was in hospital and had some health issues after a successful hip operation. However, it was still sad news to receive. I contemplated cancelling my run but I decided to go ahead with it to help process my thoughts.

As I ran I felt it was quite fitting that I should learn of the news in Bournemouth. This seaside town amongst others such as Dymchurch and Weymouth, are where I have my fondest memories of my Grandma. Every summer for two weeks we would go down to one of these seaside towns with my Grandad driving my uncle's Yellow MK2 Ford Escort…oh and let's not forget Sooty! The family dog who lived to almost 18 years old...as Grandma would often remind us. Sooty would happily sit in the front. In the later years my cousin Neal would join us on holiday too.

As I ran along the beach that morning all the memories from our holidays came back and it was like I was there with them. I could picture Grandma sitting in one of the beach huts we used to rent, she was never a fan of the sun and the hut gave a chance of some shade. But when the weather was cooler, Grandma would happily go for a paddle in the sea, with her straw hat and wearing one of her flowery summer dresses (it's the yellow one I can picture). Grandad loved to swim out deep and I could picture his head bobbing in the background as I worried he went out to far.

My Grandma loved her ice cream. Her favourite being a Knickerbocker Glory. For those that don't know, this is like an ice cream sundae served in a tall glass, with ice cream layered on top of fruit, a sprinkling of nuts on the top and a strawberry sauce covering the inside of the glass. The best bit was when you reached the bottom of the glass…as the melted ice cream mixed with the syrup of the tinned fruit. As I ran back I wondered if I would be able to find an Ice Parlour in order to have one in my Grandma's honour.

As I returned from my run, Helen and Tim were waiting for me on the beach. Tim and I stripped down to our shorts and eased ourselves into the icy cold sea. Once we started swimming we soon forgot about how cold it was. It was very refreshing and relaxing, I could feel my hangover just drift away with the sea's current. Tim and I had a good catchup in the sea as we bobbed about but I was unsure whether to mention my Grandma's passing as I didn't want to put a downer on our weekend.

Amazingly we spent about 20 minutes in the sea. Then the three of us headed to the apartment to have a much needed Full English Breakfast (with black pudding). Over breakfast Helen asked how my Grandma was doing in hospital, I didn't want to lie so I told them the news of her passing. It was a relief to tell them and it felt good to talk about things.

The news of my Grandma's passing never put a downer on the weekend. In fact, it helped to be in a happy place with lots of fond memories from the past and with many new memories created of time spent with Helen and Tim.

Don't run!

This is not about running. The stories revolves around football but it's not really about that either.

My ol' man said be an Arsenal fan…

My first interest in football was around 1984 (Jeez! I sound so OLD!!) when Liverpool won the European Cup beating Roma on penalties with the goalkeeper, Bruce Grobbelaar and his spaghetti legs doing their best to put the Italian strikers off. Back then I was a Liverpool fan, as were most of my North London school just off the Caledonian Road.

I watched my first live game in that same year, it was Arsenal vs Liverpool at Highbury. My Dad and Uncle Joe are diehard Arsenal fans, they were always encouraging me to change allegiance and support my local team Arsenal. I watched from the North Bank to witness my team Liverpool get beat 3-1 by Arsenal….before reaching home that evening I had become an Arsenal fan. 

It was probably around this time when I joined my first football team playing in the imaginary league in my Grandad's garden on the Tufnell Park Road. As I got older and learned more about football, I started to document the scores and scorers in my imaginary games, as well as keep track of the league table. I also kept track of the other imaginary games that were being "played".

Primary School

It wasn't all imaginary. I played football in the school playground at St Raphael's Primary. I wasn't as good there but I slowly learned to be better in goal and would often happily dive on concrete.

High School

In High School, I was surrounded by better players, notably The Gells. Twin brothers with Spanish origins who brought a bit of continental flair to the playground. They were doing step-overs, 360 degree turns and all sorts of wizardry with the ball. I slowly started to learn these skills but was never in the same class as The Gells.

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to play for a football team, not just an imaginary one. I went for the school team trials but never got in. Playing in a real match was a lot different to the school playground. In the playground we never had corners or throw-ins as the ball never went out.

Amsterdam

In the late 80s, I went on a school football trip to Amsterdam. I remember having the silver England goalkeeper kit that Peter Shilton wore at the time. I was still keen on being a goalkeeper.

I got a bit of stick for being on this trip. Some questioned why I was there when I wasn't even in the school team. I was probably encouraged to go thanks to my best friend at the time, Martin Hanley, the team's goalkeeper. I didn't care about the stick I was happy to be there.

I was a substitute in our first game, not as a goalkeeper but as an outfield player. I made my school team debut coming on in the second half in place of the team's main striker, Matt Doyle. He wasn't happy to come off for me and was one of the ones who had given me stick. I managed to score in this game, poking the ball into the net from the six yard box after a bit of scramble. I celebrated the goal as if I scored the winner in the World Cup, jumping for joy and then running towards the centre circle with my hand aloft. It was only a friendly warm-up match.

In the second friendly game, I started on the right wing. The only thing I remember from this game is the penalty. A penalty was awarded to us with the scores even at 1-1. The key players were arguing over who was going to take it. I was looking over from the wing, when I heard our manager, Mr Mason, shout "Tony! TONY!"…I snapped out of my day dream and looked up. Mr Mason then said "Tony's taking it". The players stood back as I walked towards the ball.

As I put the ball on the spot and stepped back to take it I wasn't nervous. After all, I had taken many penalties in my imaginary games and never missed! 

I ran towards the ball, pulling my right leg back and releasing the trigger, I stroked the ball straight to the  keeper. The keeper didn't even need to move. Worst of all it was captured on video camera and was later played repeatedly on the coach.

When the tournament started a few days later, I played a couple of games coming on as a substitute. I think we finished 3^rd in the end and we each received a small plastic shield each. I still have mine in a box somewhere. During our team awards night, I received an accolade (a banana from the fruit bowl in the restaurant) for being the most improved player of the tournament.

Later back in the UK, I got called up for the School's B Team. I was so excited to see my name on the list….but sadly the match never happened as it was postponed but never rescheduled. I never ended up playing for the school again after Amsterdam.

Drayton Wanders

The inspiration behind this blog post.

In the days before the internet it was hard to find a football team to join. Your best hope was to find something in the local newspaper or join your friend's team. My friend Martin suggested that we go along to this team after he saw it advertised in his local newspaper. I think I was around 14 years old at the time.

After a few training sessions, a friendly match was set up to decide who would be picked for the squad for the coming season. I played in central defence. I only remember two things about the game. The first being when the opponent's winger got free down the wing and I slid in with a perfect tackle putting the ball out for a throw-in. My other memory from the game was when I directed our captain to mark someone for the corner that was about to be taken. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't amused but he marked the guy anyway.

After the game, the manager sat us all down in the park and read out the names of people who had made the squad… I waited nervously…and then my name was called to my relief. I had made the squad at the expense of some of the team's friends. I got a bit of abuse from the others as I walked across the field to the bus stop. I was basically told I was shit and didn't deserve to be in the squad.

Just before the season started, there was a five-a-side tournament just off the A40 near Northolt. I made my own way there from Hayes in Middlesex, which is where I lived at the time. 

It was at this tournament where I had a chance to redeem myself after the penalty miss in Amsterdam. The game ended in a draw so it was then down to a penalty shoot-out to decide the winner. I told the manager that I'm not very good at penalties so he got me to take mine last in hope that the match would be settled before it got to my turn. Neither team missed, it was 5-4, with me taking the last penalty. Score, we go to sudden death and we have a chance to stay in the tournament. Miss, we're out of the tournament. I was under a lot of pressure…my team hated me. I stepped up and shot straight at the keeper again!! The other team celebrated the win….whilst my team surrounded me and screamed at me…using this miss as justification that I shouldn't be in the squad.

I turned up for the first game of the season a few weeks later. The first game was at home which I started but I was substituted before the end of the 90 minutes. I don't remember anything about this game. A few more games into the season, I would come on as a substitute or not play at all, which was frustrating because I always felt I played well but I would still turn up every week.

The away trips were the worst. For those that didn't have transport, we would squeeze into the back of the Manager's Vauxhall Astra van which was full of plumbing tools and piping. There were about 6 of us in the back of the van. For the whole journey to the away games the others in the back were throwing balls and boots at my head whilst screaming abuse at me. It was the same for the journeys back to Drayton. All I did was try to defend myself. There was one occasion when we got out of the van, one of the kids swung for me with his boot bag and was caught by the Manager. The Manager suspended him for a month and of course the other players blamed me for it.

In the match that followed, I was in the side in place of the guy who got suspended. Members of the team said that I got him purposely suspended so that I could get picked. However, the best quote came from the captain as we lined up for the game to start. "Don't you dare fuck up!!" he said. I played the game of my life and we never conceded a goal until I got substituted towards the end of the game. Some of the team said I shouldn't have been substituted because I was playing so well. The captain congratulated me for having a good game. Even the guy who was suspended praised me for having a good game. So all was good and amazingly the abuse stopped.

I started to get picked more often but never completed 90 minutes. The manager had a habit of substituting me before the end of the game no matter how well I was playing. However, I still would turn up every week in hope that I would get to play.

Conclusion 

So this blog is not really about running – if anything, it's about not running away. It's about sticking with something, working at it, despite the obstacles and negativity.

Born to run

Early one Saturday morning in June whilst lying in bed and thinking about the day ahead, I get a WhatsApp message from my brother Ryan "Can you send me your address?". I replied with my address and questioned if it was my birthday…he simply replied "Yeah". My birthday was in March so I knew it couldn't have been. 

A few days later all was revealed. I received a parcel. I opened it to discover a book by Christopher McDougall called Born to run. There wasn't a note but I knew it was from Ryan.

I've now finished the book and this is my review:

The book starts off with the author looking to remedy a long standing running injury he's been having. He learns of a hidden tribe of indigenous Ultra Runners in Mexico called the Tarahumara, who are able to run up to 200 miles in one session, across dirt tracks, following goat trails, up and over mountains and wading through rivers….in their sandals! Traditionally it was a means to travel between villages but they also do it for fun. Yes, fun! Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy running but couldn't imagine running such distances. That is, before I read this book. Since reading this book, I have felt inspired to run one…maybe! Well, I will see how I feel after I complete a marathon. Ryan said to me recently "Once you run more than 50 miles, you can run any distance!". Oh is that all?!

The first running shoe was said to have been created in 1972, it's from this time that the book alleges that a certain manufacturer of the shoe is responsible for the running injuries we have today, as these issues didn't exist before. I would argue that perhaps the injuries weren't documented before this time. However, valid points are made regarding the cushioned running shoes and why these are attributed to knee, achilles and hip problems. The book also points out the human foot is a perfect piece of engineering and didn't need improving in the first place, it just needed strengthening.

Another interesting chapter is how humans evolved to become long distance runners, which was key to their survival and hunting. I won't give away too much here but the chapter starts off by looking at why the cheetah and the jackrabbits are fast runners. It is a compelling chapter and certainly a mind opener.

The author meets lots of interesting characters along the way as he does his research. He describes them so well that you feel you’re with him when he meets them. You’ve got the White Horse, Barefoot Ted, the California surfer couple and Bob. During the race scenes I felt I was running with them, tasting the dirt from the track, feeling the heat as I tried to keep up with them as I ran the course.

The final chapter was fascinating, so much so, that I read it twice, I was captivated and didn't want the book to end.

This book will obviously appeal to runners but I would also recommend this to anyone who likes to explore and appreciates the challenge of being out in the wilderness. Whoever you are, you will never look at a pair of sandals in the same way again.

British 10K - A scenic run in the hot London sun

After completing the Hackney Half in May and with the Ealing Half not until September, I was looking for a shorter running event around July. I opted for the Virgin Sport British 10K. This event starts in Piccadilly Circus and ends around the Houses of Parliament via the London Eye, the route covers part of the London Marathon, so I thought it would make for an interesting run and would be good preparation for the Marathon….IF I get in (ballot results not until October).

Unlike the Hackney Half the training wasn't interrupted by any injury concerns – it was refreshing to go for a run without it turning into a limp.

On the day of the event, I got on the tube at South Ealing to Piccadilly Circus…at first I was the only person in running gear on the tube….but as it edged closer to Piccadilly Circus more and more runners were getting on. Again, like with the journey to the Hackney Half, no runner spoke or dared make eye contact with another runner. Yet everyone was pretty chatty at the main meeting point. I spoke to a couple who had done the Hackney Half and like me it was their first half marathon. 

When signing up for the British 10K, I didn't even consider the weather. The summers in London are rarely consistent but as I write this, without checking, we've had about 5 weeks of good hot sunny weather (As I go to publish this it's a lot cooler and greyer)! Sunday 15^th July 2018 was a scorcher! The Yahoo Weather app said it would reach as high as 30 degrees Celsius. I got to the event at 8am and it was already hot in the sun! The race was due to start at 9:30am so it was only going to get hotter.

After dropping off my bag and then answering nature's call, I made my way to the starting pen. I was in Pen E, which was situated outside The Ritz Hotel in the middle of the pack. I estimated my finishing time to be 55 minutes for this event, which was my personal best. As I stood waiting outside The Ritz, I wondered what the residents must have thought with over 10,000 runners outside. I also thought about popping in for afternoon tea at the end of the race but then I remembered I didn’t have a tie and shirt with me.

The race made a start just after 9:30am…I shuffled towards the start line with the other thousands of runners, eagerly awaiting to get started. I finally made it to the Start line around 9:50am and then I was off!! I surprised myself by overtaking people straight away…not sure if it was my imagination or the adrenaline but I felt I was flying….not in the literal sense…in terms of speed!! After running to the end of Piccadilly I decided to ease off a little bit as I didn't want to burn out too early.

Running up Regent's Street towards Oxford Circus…my mind started to wander like it often does when I go running. I was thinking that the road would make for a good Formula 1 race similar to the Monaco Grand Prix…then I remembered when A1GP were in London and wandered what happened to them. A1GP was a kind of World Cup for Formula 1 cars, where the teams were countries and all the cars were created equally. They eventually ran into financial difficulties and it ceased to be after a few years.

After I turned the corner at Oxford Circus, a band inside an open lorry started playing "Keep on running" by Spencer Davis Group, this made me pick up the pace again as I ran down Regent's Street towards Piccadilly Circus.

My Dad said he would cheer me on at some point along the route but I didn't know where. I guessed around Piccadilly Circus, so as I ran towards it I was looking out for him but as I ran past the Eros statue I didn't see him. Fun fact: The statue which is commonly known as the Eros Statue, is not actually Eros…it's his brother Anteros (the God of counter Love).

Next I ran around Trafalgar Square, up by Leicester Square to Shaftsbury Avenue and then we turned back on ourselves to run towards Trafalgar Square again but before we reached there we turned to Charing Cross station to run along the Strand. As I was running towards the Savoy Hotel, I heard someone shout out "Tony, TONY!!" as I looked up, it was my Dad with his hands aloft….I was so happy to see him and he looked just as delighted to have spotted me….and then he shouts "Run faster!!"…which made me laugh as I turned the corner to run down Savoy Street. The street is full of pot holes and I was trying not to land in one awkwardly as I made my way down the slight hill towards Victoria Embankment. At the bottom of Savoy Street we turned left to run towards Temple and we ran around the gardens before running towards Victoria Embankment again. At this point it was really hot in the sun…I could feel my skin burning like a vampire in the sunlight…so I ran faster towards the shady parts of the road.

Looking up I could see Westminster Bridge in the distance. I knew this was towards the end of the course and the only bridge I needed to run over. It was still a long way off so I tried not look at it too much and tried to focus on other things, like the London Eye, the cheering crowds and what pubs I knew in the area. One of my favourite places is Tattershall Castle, this is a pub on a boat that looks towards the London Eye, although I was disappointed to see that there were high fences up for some development work in the area around where the boat is moored.

Before I knew it, I was fast approaching Westminster bridge and I could see the Houses of Parliament getting taller and taller as I got nearer. Running over Westminster Bridge, looking to my left, I could see the London Eye, which is a view I will never get bored of. At this point, the bridge was extremely hot, there were no shady spots to be found but I knew that I was getting close to the end of the run.

We got to the end of the bridge and then we had to turn back to run over it again. I was starting to get bored of the routes doubling back on themselves. On the way back over the bridge towards the Houses of Parliament, runners were stopping to take pictures of Big Ben (the great bell is Big Ben not the Clock Tower but you know what I mean). I don't know why the runners were stopping to take pictures as it's covered in scaffolding whilst they do repair works.

The route then took us alongside Parliament Square but instead of taking us around it, we went on through Broad Sanctuary passing Westminster Abbey, on to Victoria Street and followed this street up to Christchurch Gardens before we turned back on ourselves to run back towards Parliament Square again. As we ran around the square, I spotted the back of the Winston Churchill statue and remembered when it was vandalised during one of the demonstrations. As I felt my legs start to tire, I started to think of Churchill's famous quote, no not the 'Fight them on the beaches' one…but this paraphrased one: "Yes I may be drunk but tomorrow I will be sober…but you will always be ugly!".

Entering Whitehall I knew I was on the finishing straight and I tried to step it up a bit. I then could see the finishing line, there were crowds watching but they weren't cheering like the Hackney Half. I made it past the finishing line and still had enough energy to lift my hands aloft as if I had won the event. Although I hadn't won, it did feel like a feel victory for me. I later discovered that my official finishing time was 51mins 45secs, which is a new personal best for the distance.

After the finishing line, I collected my medal, goody bag and t-shirt. I walked slowly towards Trafalgar Square looking for somewhere to sit that wasn't the floor.

 I checked my phone to see that I had loads of messages of good luck from friends and family. It was great to have everyone's support. Much to my surprise (and delight!), there was also a message from my Dad saying that he was at the finishing line and asking if I had finished yet. I hadn't expected him to wait for me or to see him again that day. After giving him a call, I then found him next to the Earl Haig memorial statue. I was a bit hot and sweaty but he gave me a big hug anyway…he was clearly proud of me and was keen to take a picture of me in front of Nelson's Column.

On the way to collecting my bag there was a Queen tribute band near Trafalgar Square belting out Bohemian Rhapsody.

After collecting my bag I suggested that we go to the pub for lunch…my Dad replied "Tone, it's a bit early for lunch". I looked at my watch, it wasn't even 11am and being a Sunday the pubs weren't opened yet. So we killed time by going for a coffee in Neros in Soho. We eventually made our way to The Real Greek on (aptly) Greek Street in Soho. We had a big feast washed down with a couple of Greek beers and then we said our farewells before heading home.