Giving and Taking Advice

2 Sept 1990 – a Sunday morning. I was at Belgrave Hall getting changed ready to run my first half marathon, the Wimbledon. I’d been running for a year and a half now and I’d improved some, my 5k pb had gone from 18:12 to 15:57, but I’d never run as far as a half marathon, not even in training. There was only one reason I’d entered, my girlfriend’s brother was running it and their parents were coming to watch him. Having tried hard to gain their respect for four years here was an opportunity to turn things around in one race. As I got changed there was the usual clubroom banter going on, between guys doing the half and other guys just there for their usual Sunday run.

Amid the banter one old guy came up to me and introduced himself as Charlie Dickinson. I’d never heard of Charlie, not surprising as he’d been travelling around the world since I’d joined Belgrave, but now he was back and about to show the Masters (or Veterans in those days) scene what he could do. But the one thing that stood out about Charlie was that he was full of advice, whether you wanted it or not. I was just trying to relax, enjoy myself and beat my girlfriend’s brother but Charlie kept on giving me snippets of advice I wasn’t really interested in, afterall my dad was old and I’d never listened to him, why should I listen to an old man I didn’t know. I told him I thought I could run 1:20 and he told me I should stay behind Fred as he was definitely going to run 1:20.

With Charlie’s advice firmly in my head I began the race, headed off without Fred and finished in 1:18.50. The last three miles had been hard work and I was knackered. I’d beaten my girlfriend’s brother by about 25 minutes, had I gained any parental respect, probably not as I suffered post race flatulence for the rest of the day and fell asleep mid afternoon. However I had gained a begrudging respect for Charlie, who didn’t abandon me, like I abandoned his race plan, and kept popping up at various places on the course to cheer me on. A year later I started training with Charlie, under the guidance of Arthur Bruce, by now I was a more willing recipient of his advice and we became great friends, how could you not with someone who runs his 5000m pb (15:14) at age 44.

As I improved I started dishing out advice in Charlie fashion, but after a while I realised that people didn’t want to be told what to do all the time, so I stopped. Of course I was happy to dish out advice but now I waited until I was asked. I generally follow that path still, though recently I can be accused of giving one of my Salford colleagues some advice he wasn’t asking for, his response reminded me of this tale.

But I often do give advice to people when they ask, naturally you can get advice from many different sources and often those sources will offer differing advice. That’s natural and it’s up to you to understand the advice and choose whichever course you feel is best for you. I did get annoyed with one client who I gave advice to, they then went to get advice off other sources and spent days questioning why my advice was different to theirs, but that’s another story.

Someone else I took advice from, when I was a beginner runner, was Belgrave’s John Mather, John’s recently opened up a group on Facebook ‘I was, or am a runner!’ There are some great pictures and cuttings being uploaded into the group, from many of Britain’s finest athletes of the past, some still going, worth a look if you can get it.

Moving onto more current times: it’s almost two weeks since I underwent a series of running firsts, it’s amazing how many there are available to me, despite all my years in running. The event was the Northern 12 Stage Road Relay, held at Heaton Park. It was the first time I’d taken part in the Northern event, having been a regular at the Southern event with Belgrave and Herne Hill previously. It was the first time I’d been in a 12 stage B team, when I previously hadn’t been good enough for the A team there was no B team entered, mind you on this particular occasion I’d have been happy to be in the C team. I also thought this was the first time I’d been the slowest short stage in the team during a 12 Stage, but on closer examination I realised I was the slowest in Belgrave’s National 12 Stage team that took Silver in 2004, though on that occasion I was still able to hold my head up with 3^rd fastest on the leg, the two guys faster than me, marginally, were from the two teams I was chasing (we were lying in 3^rd when I took over, and when I handed over), Kevin Quinn of AFD and Duncan Mason of Salford, Kevin I’ve known for many years, we trained together for a while, Duncan, I met for the first time proper at the Northern 12 Stage. Needless to say, on this occasion, I didn’t set the Salford tent alight with a scintillating time, but I did ok, most importantly I came through without making my injury any worse, though I did run into a rock on my warm up and suffered a painful bruised knee for about a week. Salford’s A team were always in the hunt and were just shy of the medals, coming 4^th. The B team were always up there challenging for a National qualification and were well placed with two legs to go, but then we went a man down, a disappointing end to a great day, but not one to dwell on.

Anyone know where leg 11 is?

2010 in the Herne Hill A Team, having a good run sweeping past the Belgrave athlete as I approached the Belgrave supporters, can't remember receiving any cheers for old time's sake!

After the race I went to Spain for a few days, a planned trip to try to sharpen up in the sunshine in anticipation of a National 12 Stage leg. Following our non qualification, my inability to really turn on the pace and the weather forecast, I was wishing we’d decided to go to the Lake District instead, for some serious walking. But as it turned out, the weather in Spain was great, whereas in Britain it was not, and my injury pains started to subside, thanks at last to all the hard physio related exercises I’ve been doing, and I was able to start running a bit faster. In fact, despite only being their four days I was able to train reasonably hard on three of them, the old Rog is coming back. In fact since I’ve returned from Spain my training has gone particularly well, I’m moving freely again, virtually without any pain and with a much improved pace, even on the short sharp reps. Now time to start planning my next race, I think.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

Trafford 10k

21 February 2010 – I had a terrible night. I don’t know why, it was just one of those nights where you can’t get off to sleep. The next morning I was due to run the Trafford 10k, having been 1^st M45 at the Alsager 5 two weeks previous, running faster than I had 5 years earlier when I was 1^st M40, I was keen to see what I could do in a 10k. But, when my alarm went off, I felt rough as anything. I got out of bed all the same and went to the window, before me the road was covered in a thick layer of snow. We were renting in the countryside at the time, Hassall Green, there was no way the road would be clear by the time I needed to leave. I supposed the main roads would be clear but I knew the race was around country lanes too. Frankly I felt terrible and really didn’t feel like it, so I did something I rarely do, I decided to skip the race and go back to bed.

Later I heard the race had been rescheduled, due to the weather. The rescheduled event took place on 7 March. I’d had a good winter of training and a long period without injury so I was looking forward to my second bite at this particular cherry. Still new to Cheshire, having only been down since November 2009, I didn’t know many people and, being quite shy, I spent my time, before the race, relaxing with a book. It was a cool but sunny day, perfect for a race, and Chris Thompson, of European 10000m silver fame (though that was to come later in the year), took full advantage, setting a blistering pace from the start. His winning time of 28:02 was phenomenal and over 1 minute 30 seconds ahead of 2^nd place, pretty impressive in this strength of field. In 6^th place Andy Ward was also impressive, 1^st M40 in 30:22. Gary Priestley, prior to him joining Salford Harriers, was in 16^th, 31:46, just ahead of 1^st Salford Harrier, Simon Bruton, 18^th in 31:49 and two places further back was 1^st M45, Roger Alsop, still a Herne Hill Harrier, in 32:19. I’d had a great run, I was flying and best of all it felt so easy. But I couldn’t hang around to bask in any glory or try to make friends with the locals, I was due back in Sandbach to have lunch with the Foster’s, an old school friend and his family.

Move on four years and the Trafford 10k is now firmly established in March. I haven’t been able to run it since 2010, enforced holidays and injuries seemed to get in the way, but I’ve been wanting to for a while. This year the enforced holiday was early and I was keen to have a road race to focus on so I entered, and, in retaliation for all the enforced holidays, I entered Carole as well. I was really looking forward to the race, sure I knew I wasn’t anywhere near the shape I was in in 2010 but I felt I was just about getting over my injuries and starting to train reasonably well. However, then the injury and illness struck again.

Unable to train with any real quality, over the last three weeks, I set myself a realistic goal of trying to run sub 36 minutes. Seems an easy target to beat but considering most of my recent training has been carried out no quicker than 7 minute mile pace, maybe not so easy. That was my realistic goal, but I actually fancied trying to break 35 minutes. To cap it all, just as my hamstring was improving, I pulled it again on Friday night. Just a slight pull but enough to feel a twinge every time I sneezed, yep still sneezing….

Sunday was a glorious day, Carole and I were basking in the sunshine at the start of the 10k. What a change not to wear anything under my singlet, no hat or gloves either, I even got my sunglasses out. We were told to listen for a whistle and 3-2-1, but in reality they might as well have used a dog whistle it was so ineffective. I barely heard it and I was only about five rows back, Carole much further back didn’t hear it at all and thought there had been a false start. Anyway we were off.

Standing around tightly packed is never a great way to start a race, but even worse with tight hamstrings and I felt a slight pull as we started off, I knew it would be ok once I got going but my slow start meant I was swamped in the first k. Frankly I wasn’t too bothered though, I knew I’d pull through as the race progressed.

There were some great results; Nick McCormick was a runaway winner, showing his intent from the start, creating a gap early on, his time of 28:56 was 27 seconds faster than 2^nd place Ross Millington with Richard Weir just 10 seconds further back in 3^rd. Very impressively proving that age doesn’t have to mean decline, Andy Ward was again 1^st M40, two places higher than in 2010, 4^th, with a time 44 seconds quicker than in 2010, 29:38. Salford Harriers were well supported in the race with 21 runners and the usual group of supporters. Our number one on the day was Joe Bailey in 5^th place overall, with a time of 29:47. In 13^th place was Carl Hardman, just a day after finishing 32^nd in the Inter-Counties cross country champs, with a time of 30:41, with Josh Tighe 3^rd man in 36^th place, with a time of 31:57. Dave Lockett ran another great race, a week before the BMAF cross country champs, to take 1^st M45, finishing 48^th in a very impressive 32:48, just ahead of 3^rd M40 Glyn Billington, who set another pb of 32:51. My mate, Rob Tudor, who refused to give me a lift to the race because I have been critical of his musical tastes, was also impressive to take 2^nd M45 in 75^th with a time of 33:35. We also had 2^nd M55 with Phil Quibell and 1^st M65 with Stan Curran.

Myself, I was far from impressive with a race position of 133^rd and a time of 35:41 but I can’t get disappointed with that result, knowing what I know about how my body currently is, though I am disappointed that I’m unable to run properly without pain. Perhaps it’s time to take an enforced break to give my body time to fully repair, or, temptingly, try something else. I did feel disappointment during the race, not for myself, but when I caught and passed Ben Riddell during the last 2k. Ben’s a much younger and faster runner than me but he was jogging when I passed him, clearly something had gone wrong, I hope whatever it is will be fixed soon. As for Carole, in her first 10k for a number of years, she ran well, her chip time was under 57 minutes, which is not bad considering she only trains once or twice a week and the most she’s run in one go, over the last two years, is 5 miles. She was happy with that and I was happy the sun was shining, so off home we went to eat our mars bars and await the official results.

I knew I'd be slow so I picked this crafty disguise so nobody would recognise me - photo from Sid Sacks

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

The Cold War

As I wrote last week’s blog I had no idea what a horrible week I was about to endure. I mentioned, in the blog, I felt I had maybe been affected in the previous Saturday’s race and Sunday’s training by a cold coming on. At the time I wrote the blog it felt like something that would soon pass over, how wrong I was. I managed to run some fast quality reps on Tuesday night and I was looking forward to gradually increasing the pace as I try to make my mark on the 2014 road racing scene. But I was wrong, I awoke on Wednesday and my body had been taken over by this horrible virus. I was weak, I was coldy and I was struggling for breath.

I’m a great believer that getting out in the fresh air is of more benefit to you than sitting at home watching TV, dosing up on lemsips and feeling sorry for yourself, so I attempted an easy run. The attempt failed, it wasn’t easy in fact it was hard work running slow. Still hopeful that it was a temporary situation I attempted another go at an easy run on Thursday. It was no easier, in fact it was harder, so hard I think I might have enjoyed a run around Boggarts Hole Clough more, though it’s a close call. This time I abandoned the run early. I then made the decision to take a break from training.

With the pseudo mother-in-law visiting for the weekend this would give me a great opportunity to spend time with her, taking her for walks in the Cheshire countryside. Friday was a couple of hours up the river Weaver to Vale Royal Abbey and back, the fresh air did make me feel better but I was still struggling with a bunged up nose that evening. On Saturday I was working whilst Carole looked after her mum, so it was only little peeks at fresh air, but I was beginning to notice recovery was on the way.

Sunday we did a round trip to Shropshire, visiting places of historical note that I’d not visited before. It was a great opportunity to get some fresh air as we were restricted to how far we could walk by my cold and my pseudo m-i-l’s age.

The first place we aimed for was Telford, named after Thomas Telford, of iron bridge fame, or better known by me for having had some of the country’s finest road runners. We skirted around Telford as the bridge is actually in Ironbridge, now there’s a coincidence.    

It may look like just another bridge to you, but this one's famous.

I was pleasantly surprised with the place, I expected it to be an interesting bridge across the river, but the village is very attractive and houses lots of museums featuring the various industries that occupied the gorge the village is situated in. Sadly none of them appeared to be open on Sunday. We had a wander along the river and up the valley side a little and then it was off to the next place.

I wanted to go to Shrewsbury as I’d been told it was a nice place, but Much Wenlock is not far away from Ironbridge and, as the home of the Olympian Games, surely worth a visit from a modern day Olympic games watcher. I hadn’t actually expected there to be much in Wenlock but, again, I was surprised, another attractive village with a part Norman church and ruinous abbey, plus it had a museum, which had a good display about the Olympian Games.

Then onto Shrewsbury, birthplace of Charles Darwin and T’Pau. I even have a running friend in Shrewsbury, but I try not to impose my family on my running friends, nor my running friends on my family. A wander around the town revealed an attractive place, but it was a bit difficult finding your way in first time round, I could have used sat nav but that’s got me lost more times than Carole.

It's an evolutionary place is Shrewsbury

Yes Shrewsbury was nice but I’m glad we made a round trip of it instead of just a day trip to Shrewsbury, we’d seen everything in a couple of hours, but I will go back, given enough inducement.

With the weekend over and the pseudo m-i-l on her way back to an independence vote it was back to the running on Monday. Still suffering with the cold it was slow and steady. I’m improving daily but any ambitions for a good road race time will have to be put on hold for a while as I build up my fitness and my confidence.

Ah I hear you say, I thought this was a fitness blog, not a travel blog, and so it is. The message is clear, if you have a cold, get some fresh air, but don’t push yourself in training. I’ve run with a cold before and strained my heart doing so, it’s not worth it, this time I was sensible and put my ambition on hold, the cold won’t last but my ambition will. I’m playing the long game, what I can’t win this year I will have another shot at another year.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

Nightmare on Boggarts Hole Clough – Part 2

Some sequels are better than the original, many are not. Nightmare on Boggarts Hole Clough – part 2 falls into the latter category. For starters there was a delay in it’s production, the sequel should have taken place around this time last year, but then I screwed up my achilles and the ongoing saga of that has been blogged about enough. After last year’s experience in the Manchester cross country league, I couldn’t find any positive reason for wanting to race cross country at Boggarts Hole Clough, but I do have this unendearing characteristic that makes me decide to take the hardest route towards my goal. Sometimes I despair of myself, and I feel sorry for Carole.

I’ve not had a great cross country season, in fact I’ve not even had a good one, I’d say it was fair to middling. That’s understandable considering all the problems I’ve had this last year. But I still have this desire to compete at cross country events. Mind you, my cross country background comes from mostly well drained 5 mile courses in the Surrey League. The Scottish East District League was also about 5 miles and the ground was relatively firm too. Here in the North West, with the exception of Heaton Park, all the courses seem to be waterlogged, slushy and muddy with lots of tight corners, plus they’re all 6 miles – that extra mile does make a difference if you’re not fit.

But, for reasons that are completely unclear, I turned up at Boggarts Hole Clough on Saturday, ready to race. Clearly everyone knows my feelings about running in mud, and at Boggarts Hole Clough in particular, as just about every Salford Harrier I talked to seemed surprised by my presence. Despite the mud, the cold, the damp, I was actually keyed up for the race, I’ve struggled with my race starts since buggering up my achilles, but I was determined to get away at the front of the field this time. In fact I was so much in my own little world, of fantasy race starts, that I completely missed Bev Simons winning the ladies race, only realising it was done when I saw three Salford ladies at the finish, with only four ladies having finished this was a great team result, particularly as there were only four Salford ladies competing today. Not only did they win the team event but they won the overall league title and Tania Hernandez won the individual title for first lady of the series. Well done ladies.

Then it was our time, disappointedly there were only three of us running for Salford, Stan Owen, myself and Albert Castile. This meant we wouldn’t finish a team in the senior event, four runners required, but, with an average age of over 50, we would have a masters team. After the obligatory starter’s chat we were off and I made a determined start, but it didn’t seem to matter, I was still swamped by youngsters. Despite the waterlogged conditions I wasn’t actually finding it tough to run on the top field, I just didn’t seem to have any pace to get up to the leaders. Still they were within sight and I was confident that I’d pull through the field as the race progressed. By the 2^nd lap of the top field I did feel I was in my stride, I’d pulled in some people but I seemed to be breathing a lot harder than I would have expected, for the pace I was running. I put it down to having to work harder to pull my feet though the mud. The 2^nd lap of the top field marked the 1^st big lap, that incorporated the bit that went through the woods. That was the bit I struggled on last year, but I was keen to do myself justice. The first bit through the woods didn’t seem as bad as last year, more runny than glutinous but then we arrived at a steep downhill and I started slithering all over the place. Wary of my lack of grip and deciding I didn’t really want to go A over T I slowed right down and virtually walked down the hill. This created a big gap ahead of me and allowed others to catch me up. As I set off again, nearly falling over on numerous occasions on my way back through the woods to the top field, I briefly had the desire to pull out, but a little Rog inside my head told me not to be a wimp, run slowly if need be, don’t worry about where you finish, but don’t pull out. Logic said I was already covered in mud so I might as well earn a position for my time and washing machine. I carried on, with team mate Albert Castile harrying me to the start of the last lap.

Stan Owen, usually a very quick starter, had got away from me at the start. The same thing happened at the last league race and I was only able to catch him in the final 300m, this time I had no chance of catching him, I couldn’t even see him. He ran another good race to finish in 20^th position and win the overall M60 title. But I didn’t have time to worry about Stan as Albert strode confidently past me just as we started the last lap. If we’d finished in those positions I would have been the last Salford Harrier, I wasn’t about to let that happen, without a fight. Albert had pulled up on me during the tricky wooded part of the course so I knew I had to build up a gap on the top field. I tried to concentrate on relaxing and getting my legs to turn over better, it worked a bit, though I was still finding my breathing heavier than I should. Back into the woods I’d built up a bit of a gap on Albert. This time I found it easier to navigate my way through the muddy wood, only half walking down the hill. It was enough, though only just, as I finished in 28^th, one place and 21 seconds ahead of Albert.

The whole race had been another nightmare for me, I really struggled and at the end I was exhausted, even though I didn’t feel like I deserved to be, at no point had I felt like I was really running competitively. It had been my worst position, ever, in the South East Lancs league, 28^th and 4^th M45 (despite the only M45s to have beaten me in the series not being present, nor the one who finished just behind me on both occasions). In fact, on my previous excursion to BHC I had finished 27^th in a much tougher field of the Manchester League. Despite my disastrous run, we still ended up coming overall 2^nd M40 team and, overall, I finished 14^th Senior man and 2^nd M45.

At night my mate Rob Tudor invited me to join him for a training run the following morning, I was a bit unsure, thinking I’d be stiff and slow after my race, but in the end he persuaded me. I was stiff and slow and I was also struggling with my breathing again, I put it down to not being relaxed because of all the aches. However waking up this (Monday) morning it is clear all is not well in the Alsop body. A number of my clients have been going down with colds over the last two weeks and I finally came down with my version of it. I was sneezing and wheezing when I got up, felt a bit better after breakfast but when I tried running I struggled with fatigue, my breathing wasn’t right and I nearly threw up after only 4 minutes of easy running. At least I had the good sense to cut my run short. Maybe that explains why I was breathing heavier than I should have been in the race. That’s it for me, as far as cross country is concerned, for this season. I’m keen to start running in road races, where I’m sure I’ll fare much better. But for those who’s season continues, good luck in the National, next weekend.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

Running in Vietnam

I’ve just come back from two weeks in Vietnam and I’ve had a fantastic holiday, but why Vietnam? My knowledge of the country is pretty scant, based mainly on what I’ve read and watched with respect to the wars with France and America, but I was aware that it has started to become a popular destination and it does have some pretty good beaches. One of my ex-bosses went a few years ago and she was pretty enthusiastic about the place, so it was one of those places I fancied trying, it was just a case of whether it was the right place for Carole and I to visit, and when. So when Carole said she wanted to take me away for my birthday present, Vietnam sprang to mind. We considered it, alongside other places; Thailand, the Caribbean and Florida, but eventually, thanks to the glowing review from one of Carole’s colleagues, we plumped for Vietnam, and I’m so glad we did.

Before we went I did a bit of research, the place we stayed at when we went to India, last year, was not a suitable venue for outdoor running, so it was a good place to be with an achilles injury, that restricted walking, let alone running. This year, despite ongoing niggles, I was hoping to run. My research told me that Ho Chi Minh City, where we were going to spend the first two nights, was not a great place to run, though it was possible. No problem, I’d already decided I was going to take a three day break from running, to try to help my niggles to go away. The second resort, Hoi An, appeared to be flat and, on google maps, it looked like there was a long straight road by the hotel, perfect for doing reps along, I thought. So setting off I was confident I’d be able to get in some good training during my holiday, not forgetting that it was actually a holiday.

25 January was the date of departure, I was looking forward to arriving, though the fact our flight was overnight meant I wasn’t looking forward to the journey itself. I had options for the morning, I could do the inaugural Warrington parkrun, I was tempted, but, frankly, I couldn’t be bothered, the niggles told me it would just be another disappointing run, and getting up that bit earlier would have made a long day, with the overnight flight. So I did my own fartlek course in Kingsmead instead and managed a pretty decent session, to set me up for a nice break.

It was a long flight from Manchester to Ho Chi Minh City, via Dubai, we left on Saturday evening and arrived on Sunday evening (day 1 of my rest period taken care of). I was so stiff, all over, the first flight had been ok but the second one felt so much more cramped. Day 1 in HCMC and we did a walk around the city, quite an interesting city, especially with all the decorations being set up for Tet, but very scary crossing the wide roads, with mopeds coming at you from all angles, it seems in this part of the world it doesn’t matter which side of the road you drive on, you aren’t required to stop for pedestrian crossings or traffic lights, perhaps a little exaggeration but a large percentage drive that way. Surprisingly, over 14 days we only saw one road traffic accident. Long walk over it was back to the hotel for dinner and packing ready for our trip to Hoi An, the next day.

Get away from the traffic and enjoy some nice architecture in HCMC

Day 3 of the holiday and the last day of my self-induced rest, a long trip to Hoi An, due to flight delays, and when we got there it was a bit overcast and a little chilly. Mind you it was now evening so we got changed and took a bus into the town proper, about 5k away. What a buzz, the town was full of life and colour for the Tet celebrations, Tet wasn’t until the weekend but it’s celebrated for up to two weeks, the two weeks we were there. We ventured into the town briefly on a number of days and every evening for dinner, it was a great place with some interesting buildings, but over the four days around the New Year it was a bit unbearable due to the sheer volume of people. Still it was worth venturing in for the quality of the restaurants.

Tranquility: view of the pool and sea from our room.

And the beach isn't bad either

Day 4 and it was time to resume running, three days rest and I was still a little stiff, as I set off my left glute was pulling (it had been my right one in the USA). It eased out before 6 minutes and I set off on my standard holiday 1,2,3 run. Not having travelled down the pavements before (roads were just a bit too full of mopeds) I took it a little steadier than I normally would, watching out for uneven slabs, people, holes in the ground, dogs, cattle and mopeds (yes they had a habit of coming onto the pavement just in front of you and I had to take rapid avoidance measures on more than one occasion). The previous night I’d met an American couple, he had been running and got bitten by a dog, that had ruined a part of their holiday as he sought treatment to prevent rabies, so I was intent on keeping well clear of all the dogs, there were a lot but they were of the yappy sort, still a nip would have still meant being treated for possible rabies, an unpleasant prospect compared to lounging by the hotel pool.

The next day my achilles was sore and with the heat starting to get to you after 20 minutes of running I decided to keep it short, 16 x 1 min with 30 secs recovery. I found it pretty hard work and my achilles was really sore at the end. With this in mind I decided to skip the run the next day and instead did one of my 45 minute PT sessions. Meanwhile, on the beach, Carole had reignited her passion for running and was running for longer than I was, I’ve entered her for a 10k so it’s time she pulled her running socks up. She had found the beach more to her liking than the busy roadside, you still had to avoid dogs and cattle but there were no mopeds.

Back to the 1,2,3 and the 16 x 1 minute for me over the next two days, but I’d taken a leaf out of Carole’s book and did it on the beach. On the second day we hired bikes, they weren’t very comfortable and there was something wrong with the setup on mine, I should have given it a once over but I was keen to get into the countryside. By that evening I could hardly walk, my left knee, the cause of many breaks in training over the years, was aching. I’m not sure if it was the bike, the beach or a combination of the two, but I was worried that was the end of any holiday running. The next day I treated myself to a 30 minute PT session.

Having the day off running seemed to help and the following day I was back into it, though I’d decided to just run out and back at a nice easy pace. I avoided the beach and when we did go out cycling I made sure the bike was set up better.

I started to take age and body issues into consideration now, knowing I’m no longer the youthful 47 year old who could do back to back sessions I decided I’d alternate between steady runs and reps. It was getting hotter every day and the 3 minute reps were feeling quite tough, so I decided to stick to the 1 minute reps. After all I was on holiday, the hard work can wait.

Finally, something older and more of a ruin than me - My Son

On the penultimate day I did my longest run, still only 40 minutes, less than Carole’s longest run, she’s a machine when she gets on a beach, and then, on the last day, I felt I was beginning to motor on my 1 minute reps, just in time to go home and start to ratchet the training up.

Long flight home, we were on the cramped plane to Dubai, by the time I got off in Dubai I was limping again, I was thinking I’d probably need to take more time off when I got home, however, arriving in Manchester, in a roomier plane, I didn’t feel so bad and could walk with barely a limp.

Over the next few days I was stiff, I decided to just run long runs, 8.5-10 miles and run reps with clients. However a couple of days of that and I realised I was just constantly stiff, so I booked in with Mike for some bioresonance. Luckily Mike was available at short notice, the next day I felt much freer when I was running, I was flowing again and I ran the 8.5 mile run two minutes quicker than two days previously, despite the stiff wind. I still have a few aches but I feel so much better, I’m off to see Mike again next week for a further booster.

So what did I think of Vietnam, lovely country, very affordable, fantastic food, friendly people (on the whole), extreme road crossing capability required and not the best place to run fast, though if you want to you can. We didn’t pick up any illnesses, despite eating salads and having ice in our drinks, no dog bites, though one almost got me, and no random attacks by cattle feeding off the plants growing on the roadsides. All in all a great trip, I’d go back.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

Who’s Aging Now

I’ve been around the running scene for twenty five years, not as long as some of my peers but longer than some have lasted, perhaps I should be celebrating a silver jubilee after all I’m not used to sticking at something this long. I’m not sure what it is about running that’s made me stick to it, particularly as I’ve been through some particularly rough patches, but I’m not ready to give up on it yet. In fact I hope I’m still running in twenty five years time, though I accept I’ll be a lot slower by then. It doesn’t actually feel like twenty five years to me, perhaps I’ve enjoyed it too much, as I have such vivid memories of many of my races. Alas it is so, I am no longer the naïve twenty four year old, on Thursday I will turn forty nine, a bit older, a bit wiser, but still as eager to perform at my best.

I recall the early days, training from Belgrave Hall, seeing all the old men turning out for the Veterans races and thinking that I didn’t intend still running when I was their age, yet here I am, their age and beyond, and still running. I sometimes wonder what my younger club mates or the youngsters who toe the line of my races think as they look at this old man having the nerve to challenge them to a race, but at the end of the day it matters not a jot what they think and everything about what I think.

Funnily enough, although I’m quite happy to joke about my age and rapidly receding hairline, I don’t actually view myself as old. Perhaps it’s because I can’t actually see myself running, in my head I’m still the 29 year old who led the National 12 stage for almost the whole of my leg, or the 36 year old who led the National 12 stage for all of my leg, or even the 41 year old who took over in 2^nd in the Scottish road relays and handed over in the lead. Even though I’m now much slower, I’ll always feel I’m as good as I ever was, relatively speaking of course.

Leading the National 12 Stage in 1994, with International Terry West ready to pounce.

South of England 12 stage 2002, spot the difference

2013 Alsager 5, getting a little harder to lift that knee

Speaking of old runners it was good to hear of so many past greats turning out to support Herne Hill Harriers in Saturday’s Surrey League event, celebrating both 125 years of HHH existence and the life of HHH stalwart Stan Allen. I would have liked to have been there myself, having 17 years of Surrey Leagues behind me. Of course at Salford, we always have a number of past greats making up the numbers in our races, it’s inspirational to see so many of the O60s still taking part, still so enthusiastic, if nothing else it makes me feel young. But the Salford Masters don’t just make up the numbers, they make a difference, you have to be good to beat them. This Sunday we won the Men’s event in the Manchester Cross Country League, the six man team included M50 Derek Crewe and M60 Stan Owen – now that’s going some.

79 year old John Gebbels, proving age is no barrier

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk

Photos with thanks to Alan Mead, Rex Bale, Ray O'Donaghue and Bryan Dale

Going Down to Liverpool to Not do the County Champs

This weekend it was the county championships. I’ve done the counties many times before, mostly in Surrey, sometimes in the East District of Scotland and for the last two years in Cheshire. I’ve been reasonably successful in all of them but this year I decided I wasn’t interested.

The main reason was that I was concerned that running too much on mud would be detrimental to my achilles and, whilst it’s pretty much fixed, I have been training hard lately and it has started to ache a little. Had there been a Salford team in Cheshire or were my origins Greater Manc or Lanc then there would have been pretty much nothing that would have stopped me turning out but as the lone Salford Harrier in the Cheshire champs it’s a lonely place to be when you’re in pain. Too many years of running as the sole Herne Hill Harrier in Scotland and the North West meant I had very little interest in the event this year. True, for the last couple of years I’ve had good runs and been 2^nd M45 in Cheshire, it’s possible I could have made it three in a row or even gone one place higher, but we’ll never know now.

It was however good to see my colleagues and ex-colleagues doing so well in their respective champs; Tom Cornthwaite and Gary Priestley were 1^st and 2^nd in the Lancs, Joe Bailey took 2^nd in the Greater Mancs with Salford taking 1^st team. Back in Surrey it was good to see my old clubs doing well; Herne Hill Harriers took silver in the mens event with Belgrave bronze, also getting bronze in the womens event.

I do enjoy the counties, hopefully I’ll be much stronger next year and will feel more inclined to take part, especially if they move it back past 16 Jan so I’ll be fresh in the M50s instead of hanging on the the M45s, not that the M50s will be a pushover.   

Talking of old clubs it was with some surprise and a great deal of sadness that I heard, this week, of the death of one of the stalwarts of Surrey athletics, Stan Allen. I was only with Herne Hill Harriers for about seven years so I don’t feel qualified to say much about Stan’s athletic or club activities but like any athlete of my era, I knew Stan and Stan knew me. When I first met Stan I was a Belgrave Harrier and there was a bitter rivalry between the teams. Despite my twenty three years shared between the clubs I never really got to understand why this was and it almost stopped me from joining Herne Hill when I did, for fear of upsetting people at Belgrave, in the end I decided my future was more important than people getting upset over triviality. Despite this rivalry I personally always had a good relationship with members of Herne Hill Harriers, though it was a bit shaky with Geoff Jerwood for a while when he pushed me off the track in a sprint finish – getting back on the track and beating him that day was justice enough. With Stan I was for a while, during the early days, on the back foot, partly because of the club rivalry and partly because I didn’t fully appreciate his sense of humour, but over the years we both showed our endurance for our respective clubs and I found myself in races being cheered on by Stan, unless there was a Herne Hill Harrier nearby. Mutual respect brought us closer together and when I decided it was time to join Herne Hill, Stan was one of the first to welcome me onboard. Sadly my move to Edinburgh meant my contact with Stan was more correspondent than social, but he was a big man in a big club. All clubs can lay claim to people who stand out in the club, but Stan was more than this and his influence on athletics was evident by the many messages I’ve read on facebook. And that’s all I’m going to say, other than, next Saturday’s Surrey League match is set to mark the 125^th anniversary of Herne Hill Harriers, but it’s now a poignant reminder to one of Herne Hill’s greatest. I wish I could be there to help remember him but my thoughts will fly with you.

One of my favourite photos of Stan by Ray O'Donaghue, shows his loyalty to both club and family.

So because I told Carole I wasn’t racing this weekend she seized her opportunity and booked us in to see a pantomime in Liverpool. Yes pantomime that’s right. I used to love pantomimes, but we’re talking 40 odd years ago, I’ve kind of grown out of them a little since then, but Carole did explain it was a Rock n Roll panto, so I happily went along. To make it more worthwhile we decided to make a weekend of it and stay over. Naturally it was training first and I was flying in my run on Saturday morning, made me wonder if I should’ve entered the Cheshires afterall, but luckily I can carry that form over to something else. Then it was off to Liverpool to book into the hotel and wander. We visited the Liverpool museum, which was fascinating, a quick look at Liverpool 1 and back to the hotel to change for an early dinner at Alma de Cuba. The restaurant, along with the panto were recommended by some of Carole’s colleagues, and they were spot on. The food was great and the service matched it, mind you we were in at 17:00 so hardly busy. Then it was off to the theatre to pick up the tickets and enjoy, unfortunately not having the tickets in our hands meant Carole forgot which theatre we were due at, so we found ourselves at a theatre the other end of Liverpool. Luckily Liverpool isn’t that big and we made it back to the correct theatre (thank goodness for mobile phones) in time to get a drink in before the curtain went up. It was Aladdin at the Liverpool Playhouse and straight away I could tell I was going to enjoy myself, rock music, though some was a little suspect, childish jokes and a cast that was having so much fun it made me wish I was an actor. I even got up from my seat, waved my hands in the air when asked and sang along to some classic rock. What a great night. The next morning we were up and out for a run along the Mersey, not the most exhilarating run but at least I was running along a promenade rather than limping like last time we went away. It was a dry run but after breakfast we were in the Tate gallery as the rain started to come down, it was horrible cold drizzle so we decided it was time to head home instead and watch Nottingham Forest play West Ham in the FA cup.

The weather has been particularly bad in the UK these past weeks, but we’ve been sheltered from the worst of it in Cheshire, the grounds soggy and it’s as windy as anywhere else but the flooding hasn’t affected us. It’s not stopped me running, in fact I’ve done some good sessions in the wind, just means I have more kit to wash each week as I layer up.  

I’m still deciding on my next course of action, from a running perspective, I think I might venture back onto a cross country course for my next race but after that I’m going to work out what’s best for me long term.

Written by Roger Alsop

www.rogeralsop.co.uk