Layne Beachley and the beaches

It isn't every day you bump into a genuine living legend and I don't think it is overstating it to describe 7 times world surfing champion Layne Beachley that way.

The big toe was fine this morning but I was feeling a bit bleugh; the constant humidity that I am constantly belly-aching about is starting to drain us all. But today was a no-brainer choice. Bryce was turning two and his party was in Newport. Drive there with the family, they drive and I run home along the Northern Beaches. Shouldn't take too much cocking about to turn it into a one way 25km run.

The only downside was that I'd be setting off at around 12:30 by which time it was pretty damn hot and still quite humid, I guess around 80%. I felt reasonably well hydrated, if a little underfed, slapped a load of sunscreen on greased my nipples and crotch and then watched as Sal and the girls drove off in air-conditioned luxury, heading home for a sleep. I must be out of my tiny fucking mind. Oh well.

The idea was to run along Pittwater Road which does not have too many great views. However it soon became apparent that the km were turning over a little too quickly and I'd need to add a couple of kinks. Simple enough, at mona Vale I turned east and ran closer to the ocean. Got some nice views too.

Despite the sunscreen I was a little concerned at the heat and sun and was glad when it clouded over a little. There were a couple of drops of light rain, but nothing that cooled me down. At Dee Why I did the maths and figured that heading back to the beach and the into Manly would get me the distance. I wasn't really enjoying the miles at this poit but I was enjoying the fact that they were ticking over. Hot and with something that felt a bit like a shin splint (left leg) I was glad of the brief rest I awarded myself at Freshwater. I was 17km into the run, on a boardwalk over the rocks by the ocean and I had just passed my Juneathon total. From here on it is uncharted waters.

I rounded the headland to see a surf carnival on Freshwater beach that means I could not run across the hard packed sand but needed to go through the soft stuff - really not at all what I needed and I'm glad "Freshie" is a small beach. I got to the zig-zag steps on the south side and thought sod running these.

A couple of zig zags up I glimpsed a surfer behind me who looked a bit like Layne Beachley. Around the next zig zag I stopped to find that she looked exactly like Layne Beachley. At a sweaty 18-and-some-km in I must have looked pretty as a picture as she trotted up behind me, board under arm. We had a brief chat, I told her I thought she was an inspiration and had done great things for surfing. She said she never tired of getting compliments, wished me well for Janathon and I trotted on, a bit of a spring in my step.

Dropping down to Manly the spring did not last long as I picked up the stock loop in reverse. I cut the corner at the southern end of Manly beach. When I got to the Middle Harbour side I actually felt cold. Oh dear; the reserve tank is empty and I have about 4km left. It was slog home from there, but I made it to the end of my road at 24.5km, which really was enough.

At home I was a bit of a mess. The shoulders looked to have survived the sun but I suspect I made a schoolboy error by not putting sunscreen on top of my head. I was wearing a lightweight running hat all the way, but I'm not convinced of its SPF. I threw down fluids, had an Ikea meatball and branston pickle sarnie and some liquorice. I put a sweatshirt on to deal with the goose bumps.

Looking forward to icing the left leg tonight and getting to tomorrow. All about the numbers now. Monday and Tuesday are no brainers, tomorrow is make or break. Just need to stay on task.

it's just not cricket

Really, it's not cricket.

DURBAN, South Africa, March 4 (Reuters) - Security has been increased for the South African and Australian cricket teams ahead of the second test in Durban following Tuesday's attack on the Sri Lankan side in Pakistan.

What the fuck is that all about? (probably) Islamists attempting to destabilise Pakistan might target cricketers in South Africa? Come on people, who is setting the agenda here?

such insight

It would appear that people looking for jobs will go to recruitment firms. That incredible news story was second only to one telling us it is illegal to watch a video of a man swinging a baby. What next? EXCLUSIVE! Hungry People Buying Food. SHOCK! Low-on-Petrol Motorists Descend upon Petrol Stations!

Of course, being Australia, a bastion of journalistic quality, a greater proportion of real estate goes to a sport-related story (John Daley smashes camera on tree.)

separated at birth..?

judging a book by it's cover

I do not like to think of myself as one who makes assumptions about a person's character based solely upon their appearance.

However.

Very close cropped hair, crisp check shirt with collar open far enough to see the neck tattoo of the Southern Cross (have a look at the Australian flag if you want to know what that looks like) and another tattoo, this one on the forearm, saying "only God can judge me." A bottle in a brown paper bag which suggests (though it could have bee Perrier) that he was on the sauce before noon. His mate was not as stereotypically iffy, and to be fair, when a bus arrived at the stop they were skulking at they did let a woman who had turned up after them climb aboard first. Mind you, she did have a nice arse...

I did struggle not jumping to conclusions about their views on sport and immigration, the age at which they'd left school and the qualifications they had collected. Sad but true; at least I have awareness of self.

The guys reminded me somewhat of some of the In-ger-land football fans I saw arriving in Stuttgart (I think) as my brother and I were about to leave after the Croatia vs. Australia match and before England played Ecuador in the last World Cup. I mean, we didn't see them do anything out of order, but fucking hell there were some shifty looking characters out front of the bars...

scores on the doors for 2008

So we do not have to wade through long gone posts in order to find my various 2008 race times, and largely for my own benefit, and because I think I'm done for the year, I'll list them here.

• Six Foot Track, 45km off road - 4:38:28
• Sydney Half Marathon - 1:26:31
• Mini-Mos 10km - 40:52
• The Great Nosh, 15km off road - 1:17:01
• City to Surf, 14km - 56:28
• Sydney Marathon - 3:20:31

If you see in the list above links to the posts that act as race reports it means I've got all motivated.

champagne comentary

Channel 10's Sports Tonight just served up this gem in the rugby league reports

The Warriors kept their finals hopes alive with a controversial win over the Panthers. It wasn't without controversy though.

Gold.

play to your strengths

Not wanting to take anything from the incredible achievement of the British Athletes at the Beijng Olympics, nor the financial sacrifice of the Britsh people who bank rolled that success...if you include sailing, 31 of Team GB's 47 medals were won by people who were sitting down. Four came from beating people up. None for shooting this time, and none for fencing. By the time the London olympics roll around I reckon shooting and stabbing golds are in the bag.

Olympic gold

Topical Pub Conversations. Olympic sports that should be banned and those that should be included, even if they need to be invented.

Events that should be banned.

• All things equestrian. Come on, they're all rubbish.
  
• The walk. Even though the athletes in the 50km event walk the marathon distance more quickly than most people run it - myself included - the Olympics should not contain events where the goal is to not do something. Move as quickly as you can but don't run. Rubbish! Run!
• Gymnastics, diving, synchronised swiming and any event that cannot be won without a judge.
• Football and tennis - no one takes them seriously in the Games.
• Softball. In fact softball should be banned full stop, along with netball. Both are better sports - baseball and basketball - made crap.

Events that should be included and invented if necessary

• Parkour. There are certain checkpoints that must be hit but you can get there however you like. I'd put a checkpoint on top of that birds nest stadium
• No limits high diving. Higher and higher, probably into the ocean, until there is only one person left. No points for style, all for balls and the drop.
• Late chute release freefall. Gold goes to the person who pulls their chute closest to the ground.
• Speed-decathlon. All the events as quickly as possible. So you complete all possible jumps and throws and distances but the winner is who does them all the quickest.
• Ultra-extreme-marathon. Just keep running, last man standing wins. Same for swimming.
• Pure golf. Just dig 18 random holes. No fairways and greens. In fact ban all other forms of golf.
  

killer City to Surf

Wow. Did not expect someone to die on the run. Very sad news, kinda makes my run seem irrelevant. However, my blog...

Happy with my performance in today's Sydney City to Surf, the city's biggest fun run, a 14km belt from Hyde Park to Bondi. Martin Dent won in just under 41mins, the first Aussie to win in 11years and a nice follow up from his win in the Half Marathon earlier this year. I was not exactly nipping at his heals and finished in an unofficial 56:28. I had been hoping to finish in around (read "under") 60mins, hence my happiness. I could maybe have done a little better. Wee tactics were not spot on.

With 70,000 entrants the field can get somewhat congested. Even though I was in the first wave of 8000 there were a heap of folks who looked slower than me in that group, some with no chip on their shoe (chancers, no idea how they got into the enclosure) that represented the potentila to keep me from getting a good start. Niall, who was to run the race, had only managed to get a spot in the group called "back of the pack". He declined, knowing just what a pain in the arse tha is for a proper runner.

So, my usual pre-race routine is a wee as close to the gun as possible. But that could have put me behind a bunch of chancers. So today I decided to get my spot a little over an hour before the gun and therefore, by the start, I was in need of a slash. Not desperate need, but need nonetheless. I made it to Rose Bay before taking my comfort break. It seemed like I was draining the backup tank as the seconds ticked away, probably because I was aware of dropping places. What I don't know is if, over the course of the race, I dropped, picked up or maintained my time. My better start position may have picked up the time I dropped in the loo? Dunno. Anyway, unusual for me I had a slash stop that I've dwelt on for far too long.

I don't remember a great deal about the race. I was fairly focussed and not paying muh atention to anything other than moving. At half way, with most of the biggest and nastiest hill behind me I was almost spot on 30mins. With the second half having more downhill I knew I was in with a good shot of sub 60. The 10km mark came at a shade under 42mins, still on track. From there I paid little attention to the km markers and just kept going. I think I lost a fair few places on the gently slope of the final km. It's a bit of a bastard. I was well knackered as I came over the line and decided I'd not run home.

However, my recovery time is quite good now, so after only a couple of minutes I decided I would plod home and headed south to the bastard hill that is Bondi Road. That was a bit of a slog, bu from the top o the hill at Bondi Junction the way home has a nice long downhill stretch back into the City. I didn't mess about with any extra bits and took the direct route. By the time I got up on the Cahill Expressway over Circular Quay I was seriously considering bailing. My left leg was shot; glute, through ITB and down to calf all unhappy.

So close the Bridge I could not resist trotting over it, which I did sowly. By the time I got to North Sydney I decided I would bail; bus stop nearby at the foot of the Pacific Highway hill that I was in no mood for. As it happened I walked the hill instead of waiting for the bus. At Naremburn I got a large cappucino, beef and curry pie and an apple pie. Perfect energy food. Then I collected a six pack of German carbohydrates and went home to get attacked by the now-sleeping dogs.

Not a bad start to the day.

slavery

Sepp Blatter, FIFA head-honcho, has compared the soccer transfer market to modern slavery. I guess the main difference is the hundred thousand pounds a week. Nice work Sepp.

I suppose it had to happen

At last a run that I am not happy with. OK, if I think a little more rationally - which I will - it was still a decent effort. However, I was hoping to dip under 40mins for today's 10km MiniMos and came in at 40:52. So the numbers piss me of. However, it is a tough, hilly course and the wind was howling, so it was not going to be the best it could be. Still, I'd like to see my finish-time start with a 3 for the 10km.

I briefly met Simmo before the race. Simmo is a trithlete and the 10km is about the longest run he does, wheres it is the shortest I typically do. So I'm not surprised I came in ahead of him by a few minutes because he would, I am sure, hammer me on the bike and in the water. We had a quick hello and I headed off to stay warm as the southerlies were a bit chilly and I was in my running gear with 25mins before the gun. I saw Simmo again as he came home, but I was skulking off to my car as he was finishing, in no mood to have much of a chat. And besides, Sal could need the car, so I gave her a quick call.

I managed to wake Sal and she made no sense as she mumbled something at me. Well, she made a little sense, and that little was 'I am going to stay in bed, seeya later.' So I decided to see if I could find some more geocaches. Yesterday I managed to find two; one in the morning and one in th afternoon. Rumpole was booked in to be groomed (not in the internet sense) and there is one in a park that is within easy walking distance of the vet. So I went and grabbed that one with Rowlf after dropping Rumpole off. Then, after cutting the lawns in a brief period of dryness, I took Rowlf for a seond walk and a second find. On that walk I also failed to find a third. It's called 'still the one' and is a renowned bastard to find.

In fact yesterday Rowlf had a lot of walking. A lot. All up we must have walked about 15km, though not in one whack. At one point we stopped for breakfast and met Sal who had gone and bought some new toys for the boys. One of the toys was the 'Everlasting Treat Ball.' This toy, the shop assistant had assured Sal, was keeping her lab and staffie occupied after days. Days! after around one minute Rowlf had removed the treat from it's everlasting carrier. I replaced it. He got it out again. I replaced it, this time upside down, apparently trickier. Apparently not. After fifteen minutes the treat was gone. Beating Rowlf is the gold standard in chew toys. Few manage it. So he had a big day, but that was yesterday. Back to today.

I thought I'd saved the GPS co-ordinates of one particular cache but hadn't so I am not surprised I did not find that one. But I had saved the numbers for two others and managed to nail them both, the first one remarkably quickly. Both are in Cremorne, or thereabouts, in green areas in otherwise built up areas. Very nice. Sal called just before I found the second one, and it was time to head back home. She needed the car to get to the shops in order to buy replacement bras;replacements for the ones my dog has destroyed. Not funny. Well, maybe a bit funny.

pounding not the pavement part 2

A personal best and worst today as I completed the Manly Soft Sand Classic this post introduced. The MSSC is three events run on Manly Beach, the longest, earliest starting and one I entered being the half marathon. An opportunity to see how 21ish km on sand compares to 21ish on tarmac. My 1hr 55ish finish (chip time not published yet) is my slowest half by a long way...but my 1hr 55 half in sand is, well, not bad. For sand. Some numbers. First length was completed in 7.59. The lengths each side of half way were 8:07 and 8:11 and the last length was 7.45 - the quickest. But the best number was '18', my race number. It was written on my arm, triathlete style. I felt very cool. Not as cool, obviously, as the bloke who did the run in just speedos and a heart rate monitor (shudder.) Not a great look, but he spanked my time, so what do I know...

The weather was kind to the runners. It has been pissing down and there was light rain for the race start so the sand was soft, but nowhere near as soft as it would have been had it been dry. There were plenty of well compacted footprints to get some grip in. Early on, when the rain started, the wind picked up from the south. Soft sand, rain and a headwind. Lovely!

I treated the run as more of a workout than a genuine race because of the way my legs had to work. I'm not going to make a career out of sand running, so this was a bit of challenging fun. Still, I tried to maintain a good pace. The course is 14 lengths (or 7 laps) of the beach, each one around 1.6km, starting at the south end. I was "lapped" as I approached the end of lap 8, so about 12km in. By the end I'd been lapped by (I think) four runners. Very impressive pace. I lapped a few towards the end.

I am proud to say I do not run like a girl! At the penultimate turn I heard the MC say that the runner around 100m in front of me was the first woman. That was enough encouragement for me to keep and increase my pace; the opportunity to complete a race without being beaten by a girl (hahaha!) I overtook her just before the turn for home and maintained that position. Hence the fasted length being the last, and I am fairly sure the lap before that, had I clicked it, woud have been quick too.

On length 12 I took a tumble as I rammed my foot into a mostly-hidden rock. I think I caught it with my big toe and was fortunate not to ram the toe into it. My toes straightened but I rammed the sole of my foot into it and went down. I bounced straight back to my feet, assuring a concerned fellow runner that I was OK and thanking him for asking. I flexed and wiggled my toes a bit as I restarted running. An ache, but no more, and by the time I finished the foot felt fine.

When I finished I was somewhat knackered and wandered off to stand in the ocean and cool my legs. Water still felt warm and big toes felt somewhat blistered - which they were. That was the worst of it. Overall pretty pleased...but unsure I'll do it again.

Actually, nearly did not do it this year...good job I checked the website last night; I'd thought the run was (Queen's Birthday) Monday. By the time I realised my mistake I'd had no pasta for dinner...and went to bed later than I should have, so woke up late...blah blah blah.

Addendum...I came 24th of 71 finishers in 1:54:27. Twelfth in my category.

SLAP!

I told you I like Jose Mourinho. On Chelsea's season he says this

After two titles per season for the last three years there were zero titles this season, which in my philosophy means a really bad season. Maybe in the philosophy of a loser this was a great season, which I respect.'

Which I respect. Priceless. Interesting...

I am very sad about what happened. In the last two years this team lost a Champions League final and a Champions League semi-final on penalties. The supporters deserve more, Roman and the board deserve more, top people like [Frank] Lampard, [Michael] Essien, [Claude] Makelele, Ashley [Cole], Didier [Drogba], [Ricardo] Carvalho, [and coaches] Steve Clarke, Mick McGiven and some others deserve happiness. I still think of them as my boys.

No shout out to Terry. Wonder why?

'ave a banana

I find myself, a born and bred Londoner, filled with emotion as I see Chelsea lose the Champions League final, in a penalty shoot out, to Manchester United. Is glee an emotion? I've not liked Chelsea since I became old enough to know what I do and don't like. In my experience their fan base contains far too many educationally challenged racists. The injection of vast sums of Russian cash and the glamour team moniker has done nothing to make me change my view. When they had one of the best managers in Europe, and probably the world - Jose Mourhino - I enjoyed watching them play if only to see his spectacularly entertaining press conferences. But he didn't fit into Roman Abrmovich's scheme of things (after all, he was only a fantastic, experienced European manager...) so he had to go. And in came Roman's mate Avram Grant. So that made things easier for me; no reason whatsoever to like Chelsea.

Avram, Avram, Avram...what were you thinking? Sending an Englisman out to take the final spot kick in a major tournament! For crying out loud, when you get to the business end you should deploy the Germans. They know a thing or two about penalties.

the Sydney Half Marathon

Weather forecast for today was cold and windy, with maybe some rain. I awoke to clear blue skies and although the wind had swung to a colder southerly it was relatively light. So the temperatures were down a bit but as I was out of bed at 05:30 to get ready to run the Sydney Half I was quite pleased with what I awoke to. My support team had already told me I was on my own so I switched my alarm off before it went off, left her to sleep on, ignored the dogs, got in the car and drove over to find some parking in the City. With around seven thousand runners in the filed I was expecting parking restrictions but found none and therefore found a parking spot easily. And early, about an hour before the 07:30 start.

Before I forget...had The Foo Fighters on the car stereo as I drove across and My Hero came on. That is my choke-up-thinking about-dad song, so I came close to shedding a tear. But didn't. For the record, REM Everybody Hurts is mum's song. I saw the video soon after mum died and there is a part in it with a shot of a person sitting in a car and the words, presumably their thoughts, written at the foor of the screen. Th thoughts of this person were the two words "she's gone." Sooooo anywaaaaaay...I decided to dedicate this years work to the old man in a moment of melodramatic nonsense that passed as track eight started. I digress...

I passed a couple of closed cafes as I walked to the race start and idly wondered if they would be open as I walked back. Yes, is the answer on one count, though the cafe was heaving when I returned later with Sal and we did not stop. We'll be back. Another digression...I meandered around the start for a while, deposited my clothes at the bag drop and caught up with the other runners from my work very briefly before heading for a slash and then the start.

I get a little paranoid about needing a slash on the run and more so about needing to take a dump, so I try to ensure I eat and drink in a pattern that means I can have a hefty shit before I leave home and a final slash about fifteen minutes before the gun. Today I found myself in the bog-queue with five minutes to the start, figured it was a precautionary pee I was there for and decided an on-time start was far more important. As it happens I completed the race without needing a slash - nerves, eh?

As I walked back through the crowd and weaved myself as far forward as my terribly-British-Bitishness would allow (no rude pushing-in), finding myself a litle way in front of Steve (member of my team at work) and another couple of our people. That was the last I saw of them.

It was a fast start. maybe the people around me had the same thought process as me; get to Hunter Street quickly because you don't want to be caught in traffic if people will be putting the brakes on while running downhill (I belt downhill, taking anything gravity help with.) I also wanted to push on to Argyle Street as here are roadworks there and a potential bottleneck. I got to and through both of them fairly quickly and was feeling good. A dodgy knee and ankle I thought may haunt me did not. I felt slightly shin-splinty but figured that was a muscle warming and it did go away. By the time I'd gone along Kent and looped back onto Hickson I was running in plenty of space and at my own pace. Hickson passes under the Bridge and in the super-clear skies it looked fabulous. At times I love this city...

Right, I'm tired and there is some good shit on tele, so I'm leaving it here...more to follow...

too much of a good thing

First thing first, Becks put a free kick away but could not steer LA Galaxy to a win. Sydney FC ran out 5-3 winners. The match had a Becckham goal in amongth the 8 and a sending off. Can't ask for a lot more than that.

I saw some of the tail end of the game on the tele once I got home from the flics where, with JCJ, I saw a new High Definition cut of the original Star Trek pilot, The Menagerie (aka The Cage.) All good nostalgic stuff. Kirk lifts and eyebrow, Spock gives one of his few smiles and that theme tune was stuck in my head for a fair while after the event. A blatant sales ploy, really, with the box sets about to hit the streets as the puchers try to milk a bit more cash from the dwindling ranks of original Trek addicts. It was quite entertaining. I rememebr Star Trek as an overly colourful show. In HD it is oh-my-god-colourful. The tidied up cut makes the enterprise look rather swanky from the outside; planets look more realistically planet-like, stars more star-like and skin tones look far more like skin. Of course it all goes pear-shaped when we get inside the ship and find ourselves looking at highly-defined large aluminiun boxes with plenty of primary coloured lights dotted on them. So poor. The cut sounded good too. Quite why the makers thought all future-doors, whether of human or alien construction, would make noises as they opened and closed is still beyond me.

A month-ish prior I'd seen the most recent cut of Bladerunner. The Final "no-really-this-is-the-last-cut" Cut. Again in HD and again impressively updated. But here is the thing with Bladerunner; I want my nightmare, dark smoggy vision of the future to be, well, shitty and smoggy and indistinct. And HD does not do that well. Don't get me wrong, I was very impressed and up-close stuff was fantastic...but the cityscapes lost as much as they gained, in my humble. Gained in the incredible detail that I shouldn't be able to make out. Oh yeah, and as far as I'm concerned he's definitely a replicant. Definitely.

In other Sc-Fi news...Sort of. I got home last night to find Sal not watching the soccer but watching the end of Transformers on DVD. That's the Sc-Fi link done with. So engrossed had she been in the movie that she failed to notice Rowlf, or as she chose to call him last night "your fucking dog", as he trotted into the loo, collected a loo roll from the bucket we store spares in, trotted out to the sunroom, passing an engrossed Sal, and ripped the roll to shreds. Four times did he do this before Sal noticed. Try as she might to transfer blame, I am not going to blame "my fucking dog" for her not shutting the loo door...

IWS fans...Rowlf merely ripped the loo rolls to bits...ironic really, as Sal had bought the boys new chew toys yesterday afternoon. He didn't eat his way through them.

Becks

Pretty sure I saw Beckham this afternoon. A bitch of a morning at work over ran and had me taking a late-late lunch that involved no lunch but rather a gentle run. As I came around the front of the Opera House I saw a flash yacht and an even more flash motor cruiser in Farm Cove. Couple of smaller vessels too. On the other side of the cove - bay - I could see where seating and staging was being erected for HarbourLife. That happens every year. But the boats (ships?) were unusual and as I rounded the bay I started to work out what was going on. There was a floating platform covered in Adidas logos. From where I was running it had a perfect backdrop of opera house and bridge. And it had a couple of goalposts and a some rugby posts and I guess an AFL post. Hmm, thought I as I jogged around the bay. On the flash motor cruiser I saw a guy with a buzz cut holding a soccer ball. Could be Becks, thought I, as the golden boy is in town at the moment for a kick around. LA Galaxy, who pay him the million Aussie dollar equivalent per week are in town to play Sydney FC, who have their own superstar in the diminutive form of Jhuninio (no idea how to spell his name, can't be arsed to look it up, but you know who I mean.)

And this evening I claim it was Becks that I saw as I find this article and pic on the web version of the local rag.

the pre-emptive gloat

It is rarely worth gloating before the event, as this guy, posting on the Sydney Morning Herald's chat site, has now learned.

France will defeat England and I will enjoy every moment of it. And isn’t it great to see all those turn coat English supporters now behind their team again. After tomorrow it will be back to the scathing insults about their coach and players – how English that is. Remember, for all your Wallaby bagging England fans – at least they backed up their 99 world cup triumph with a 2003 final appearance – don’t think the red rose is capable of emulating that. Australia will learn and we will be back as we are the greatest world cup team on this planet – 2 world cups in the cabinet - and don’t you forget it.

• Posted by: Jeremy on October 13, 2007 9:11 AM

So far so good. England have backed up their 2003 appearance - the one Australia lost, Jezza - with a 2007 final appearance. Having dispatched our most arrogant of foes Australia and France (both, incidentally, who we actually hold in high regard) we may have a chance to have a pop at the Pumas - for a xenophobes dream trio - though it is more likely we'll meet the Sifricans. If that comes to pass, and if we beat them, the only thing that could make this World Cup any better would be one more game...in which we'd beat ze Germans.

ah, oops, maybe...

It seems that the winner of the wheelchair event completed the race in a little over 1:30. Niall, as I espoused my views, suggested the applause I witnessed may have been for the leading athlete. The leading man got a round of applause, the leading woman, so it follows that the leading wheelchair athlete would get the same. You know what; he has a point.

I'll leave the previous post as yet more evidence of what an opinionated prick I am.

Specifics may be wrong, but I stick to the essence of what I say.

Follow up news; I swung my legs out of bed this morning, planted my feet on the floor and really upset my calf muscles. Tight; very tight. I'd stretched some after the race and I'd not dehydrated myself, pissing with typical frequency from very soon after the race, so the extent of the ache was more than I'd expected. In a way it pleased me though; it means I did put in a respectable effort. So I'll pat myself on the back, happy with my 140th place (I think; need to confirm that when the website recovers from the hammering it has taken all day.)