Alan Next-Door is a good man to know. I'm not 100% sure what he does but I think he's in charge of the street cleaners in Portsmouth, they certainly seem to spend a bit longer cleaning our road than any of the others. He always stops for a chat if we happen to cross paths and always has loads of time for my girls. If a strange car takes up residence outside for too long the chats start to include words like "deep cleaning" and it's never to long before the unwanted vehicle has disappeared. I'm not sure if it's coincidence or if he radios in some kind of Colas air strike in the dead of night. If I don't ask I don't have to know.
This weekend Alan Next-Door really came up trumps. On hearing I was training for the Great South Run he appeared at the door with passes to the VIP tent. He couldn't take advantage himself as he'd be too busy cleaning the streets of the many thousand water and energy drink bottles that the runners take one sip of and throw to the kerb. Anyway, his kindness made the day fantastic for us as we not only got to stuff in some quite delightful grub for free (the after-race sheperd's pie was superb!) but also got to meet and talk to some of the elite runners. Hearing them describe their races it dawned on me that the levels that we run at might be quite different but the emotions we go through during a run are similar and the elation at having completed your target is identical whoever you are.
For my part things went pretty well. As anyone who has been listening to me recently knows my obsession with the wind direction is only just outweighed by my obsession with Imodium. Access to the VIP tent solved the second of those (funny that when you've got unhindered access to toilet facilities before a race you don't need to go, but when there's a four mile queue for the Portaloos you can think of nothing else!) but the first played on my mind for every step of the first eight miles. The whole way I focussed on a nice steady rhythm and just delivering myself to that turn with enough energy to get the kitchen sink out and throw it into the wind. Having been down at Southsea yesterday to watch my daughter in the mini race and experienced our first real blast of Arctic chill together with a 30mph wind I was expecting the worst. In addition to that my new found love of wind forecasting websites told me that it would turn this morning to the WSW and would be straight into our faces as we ran for home. In the end...... I really wasn't that bad. I had to dig hard down the stretch but managed to keep my pace steady right to the end, finish with a PB before hobbling back that free hospitality.
This weekend Alan Next-Door really came up trumps. On hearing I was training for the Great South Run he appeared at the door with passes to the VIP tent. He couldn't take advantage himself as he'd be too busy cleaning the streets of the many thousand water and energy drink bottles that the runners take one sip of and throw to the kerb. Anyway, his kindness made the day fantastic for us as we not only got to stuff in some quite delightful grub for free (the after-race sheperd's pie was superb!) but also got to meet and talk to some of the elite runners. Hearing them describe their races it dawned on me that the levels that we run at might be quite different but the emotions we go through during a run are similar and the elation at having completed your target is identical whoever you are.
For my part things went pretty well. As anyone who has been listening to me recently knows my obsession with the wind direction is only just outweighed by my obsession with Imodium. Access to the VIP tent solved the second of those (funny that when you've got unhindered access to toilet facilities before a race you don't need to go, but when there's a four mile queue for the Portaloos you can think of nothing else!) but the first played on my mind for every step of the first eight miles. The whole way I focussed on a nice steady rhythm and just delivering myself to that turn with enough energy to get the kitchen sink out and throw it into the wind. Having been down at Southsea yesterday to watch my daughter in the mini race and experienced our first real blast of Arctic chill together with a 30mph wind I was expecting the worst. In addition to that my new found love of wind forecasting websites told me that it would turn this morning to the WSW and would be straight into our faces as we ran for home. In the end...... I really wasn't that bad. I had to dig hard down the stretch but managed to keep my pace steady right to the end, finish with a PB before hobbling back that free hospitality.
So, a great weekend all round. Couldn't be prouder of Poppy for running the mini on her own, achieved my own goals for this year and met some inspirational people. By the way, the inspirational people eat too. Sally Gunnell had the "reverse" technique at the buffet, starting with a sticky bun and then following it up with some cous cous and houmus whereas Jo Pavey tucked in to plate of the sheperds pie. Of course I had to try a (not very) little bit of everything just in case Alan moves before next year's race.
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