Week 10.5: Brighton Half Marathon

Lee and I ran the Brighton Half Marathon on Sunday. 13.1 miles pfft! That’s not even half a marathon…

Lee: The Brighton half marathon sold out pretty fast so I was on the lookout for people pulling out. Unfortunately, it was our friend and spiritual panther Jac whose shoes I filled in for the day. Hopefully Jac will be in tip-top and ship-shape form for next year. It was a with a heavy heart at the Black Horse public house over a pint that Jac gave me his entry pack. I was determined not to drag the Edwards name through the mud by getting a rubbish time as Jac completed last year’s run in 1 hour 28 minutes! This was mainly out of respect for my friend but also for the fact that I could not hope to out run Jac if he sought mafia style retribution for ruining his stats and by proxy ruin his family name. As a result we revised our original plan of doing the run in a leisurely twelve hours with lunch stops, afternoon breaks, late tea, and actual participation in the event being subject to good weather on the day. (I still however have a firm belief that we should reform running to be a bit more like cricket, but ho hum). Instead, the panthers devised a complex system so this would not happen, away 12 hour leisure run, away.

Dan: Even with careful preparation the night before I managed to be late out of the house. The rushed panic wasn’t helped when we discovered we were 10p short to pay for the parking meter -desperation setting in I looked wide eyed around for a solution. AND THERE IT WAS! A friendly looking old lady behind us! Praise be on this day of days – BAFANA BAFANA! I could have hugged her. Explaining we were 10p short and running late for the race it became clear this solution was misjudged as the hag looked at me like I was asking for one of her kidneys. 10p! she didn’t want to give me 10p!

Dan: Oh yeah there was a half marathon too – this was Lee’s first half marathon and previously my best time was 1hr 57mins (for shame!). Before the race we devised a complex system to try and get a time of 1hr 45mins. I don’t want to baffle you with science but this system basically involved a digital watch and running as fast as we could while crying and consuming the total stock of the Brighton branch of Sports Direct’s energy gels. A flawless masterplan you may say? Well I don’t want to brag, but yes a flawless masterplan.

Asher D (So Solid Crew): I am really jealous of Dan’s digital watch. So jealous in fact I have written some lyrics to add into our big tune remixed by Celine Dion.

“Bling Bling, Bling Bling.
Whose calling ya’ll?
The half marathon clock to tell you-
That you have thirty one seconds to go
That you have thirty one seconds to go
to finish the next mile in seven minutes thirty
you have thirty one seconds to go.”

Dan: Amazingly our system seemed to work quite well and at 10 miles we were at 1hr and 20 mins – it dawned on us: we were on course to beat 1.45! With the carbs gel pumping through our veins and images of glory our heads, all of a sudden I became obsessed with beating 1.40. Senses taking their leave I spent the remainder of the race screaming, coughing and blowing mucus out of my nose as I ran down the Hove seafront.

Lee: We reached 10 Miles and I had to slow my pace because Dan is a running machine and I have the stamina of the Hare from the children’s tale of the Tortoise and the Hare.   

Dan: Nearing the pier with 2 minutes to make it under 1.40 (by this point I actually felt like I was going to die). Running the final 2 minutes with my eyes solely focused on my watch I screamed profanities 30 meters from the finish as the heartless bastard switched from 1.39.59 to 1.40.00. To the angelic child cheering at the end whose face dropped when they saw this, I apologise. 

Dan: Anyway I finished in 1.40.33 – 17 minutes better than my previous best and a NEW WORLD RECORD! (for Saltdean / Saltdean Vale / the house I live in Saltdean Vale).

Lee: I finished in 1 hour 42 minutes and 58 seconds. I also discovered deep heat (thanks Dan). Thanks for the support Mum, Yvette, Trish and Steve, the super Hawkins and Kelly J (apologies for throwing a half full bottle of water at Kelly after water station 1 and shouting “CATCH”, it wasn’t big or clever and didn’t endear Dan or I to our fellow runners who were equally displeased with our other antics which included general banter about pinching cigarettes off spectators, describing the eventual winner who lapped us as a “sad case” and using inappropriate language to express our general physical discomfort).

(A post run panther in it's natural environment)

Week 10: Working 9-5 what a way to make a living

As the great philosopher Dolly Parton once wrote: “Tumble outta bed, And stumble to the kitchen, Pour myself a cup of ambition, Yawnin, stretchin, try to come to life. Jump in the shower, And the blood starts pumpin, Out on the streets” Working 9-5.

Clearly dear old Dolly did not train or compete in a marathon, well at least not to my knowledge, although I will have to double check that on her wiki page... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolly_Parton. The answer is NO she didn’t!!!

I’m sorry Dolly, try training for a marathon then those lyrics will have more significance!

Glad I have got my rant out of the way now…

Training for the marathon is certainly taking its toll now. I have resorted to a few runs early in the morning – I say a few runs, I have done this twice. I’m no hero!

With working 9-5 (excuse the pun) and the weather being pretty damn rubbish it is getting harder and harder to find the motivation to put on my shorts and go out running on the mean streets of Brighton. Unlike Panther Dan, who can be seen prowling (not in a weird way, OK, a slightly weird way) around the Saltdean area most nights accompanied by Panther Lee, I tend to do most of my training in the gym. Its not all vests and steroids I can assure you! In fact, I personally think this is a very dangerous way to train.

Let me explain... I am Mister Clumsy. Just the other week, while minding my own business running on the treadmill, a slight accident occurred. I noticed, as I was running, that there were some dumbbells left on the side of the treadmill. At the time I didn’t think anything of this. Oh boy, was I wrong! So, I’m running, getting into the groove, listening to my music, when suddenly, the weight drops down onto the treadmill and flys off the back! I remember thinking to myself at the time “that was lucky, because that could have caused me a serious injury, let alone some embarrassment”! Then the second weight drops - Kablam!! - right on my shin! With my shin throbbing, I will admit the old eyes began to water somewhat. Just when I thought things could not get any worse, my Ipod fell out of my pocket, bounced on the treadmill and shot off the back. THEN, with a throbbing shin, a red face and a slight tear still in my eyes, it was my natural instinct to stop. But stupidly, I forgot to tell the treadmill this... you can guess what happened next. Feeling like a prize wally, I picked myself up, brushed myself down and proceeded to do the very British thing… look around to make sure that no one had seen my moronic antics...

So there you have it, the gym IS an extremely dangerous place to train!!!

<= Simon aka Mister Clumsy

Week 9: Panther Sneeze

The worst thing about training for a marathon is when you actually can’t. Lying in bed with a cold, ahh-panther-choo, is especially hard because of the knowledge that fellow panthers are free roaming in their natural environment. Granted, their natural environment is sea blown coastal roads, but still panthers are happiest when acting like panthers: Running for miles at inappropriate times, eating chips and beans from the canteen at work and generally being in physical discomfort. ‘But why?’ Panther lovers everywhere might ask themselves. The answer is: because just like the care bears, all Panthers, want a world where their human friends can play football properly, everywhere, regardless of their social or material circumstances. (www.righttoplay.com)

As one wise panther once said in a fit of post run exhaustion;

“Give a woman or man a football and they will play for a day, give a man or woman a 0.5mm pump valve and extendable pump and they can play for a lifetime (depending on the availability of footballs, mixed gender sporting facilities and the absence of Andy Grey demanding from the sideline that the woman goes home and makes his tea. In fact, she has already taken too long -with all her football, he is now going to have to drive by himself, in a sulk, to the Giant Golden M for a happy meal, some fizzy pop, some ice cream…and an extra happy meal- He always has an extra happy meal as Andy believes this will increase his chances of getting the green power ranger happy sac because his friend Richard Keyes will be mean again if Andy gets another pink power ranger happy sac with his happy meal-after all, no one likes the pink power ranger happy sac- only girls do and he is not a girl-he is Andy Grey- who cannot push the boundaries of normal social conduct because then Richard would chortle at him just like the beano character Richard looks like would do and then Andy would cry. Again.

“Excuse me drive thru operator, pal,  could I also have a veggie burger in my order, not because I want to eat it pal, I would not want you to get any ideas eh, but because I’m going to go and throw it at any vegans I might come across because they have no sense of humour, and they smell and they all own 2011 calendars of Vince Cable, you know-the one where every month has a picture of Vince Cable dressed in the uniforms of various communist dictatorships around the world and on their calendar all the vegans have highlighted the days in every month that-spit-MATCH -fume-OF-spit-THE-fume-DAY-spit-IS-fume-ON. Thanks buddy. This happy meal will cheer me up”

Rustle. Gobble. Rustle.

“Oh no, why! Why! WHY! Not another pink power ranger happy sac. Sob, Sob”
Rustle. Gobble. Rustle. ).”

Blame fatigue.

Week 8: Gel Hell

Lesson of the week: Water and carbohydrate/glucose energy gels are your friend. But it does seem a bit strange effectively running for an hour only to add the calories you have just burned to your body in order to keep going. Why would anyone do this? Unless they had to run a certain distance? Unless they were mental? Unless someone actually enjoys running? Do people enjoy running? Who are these people? I don’t know the answer to this question.

Maybe we should start making our own energy gels out of whisked baked beans, mashed potato, treacle and eggs? And we could drink them out of knitted socks rather than plastic.

Anyway last week was a monster. The big Sunday run was for 18 miles. 18 MILES. 18 MILES. Like the film 8 Mile with Eminem but with an extra 10 miles worth of rapping, gritty urban realism and street dance added on. It took 2 HOURS 35 MINUTES. This was a strange run. One man in running socks got into a weird stag like overtaking race at about 14 miles, but this may have been a hallucination such was the state of me by the end of the run (this would explain why he decided to fly the final 2 miles). In fact was it me; the man in the running socks. It wasn’t. Don’t threaten me. I’m a panther. Meh.  

This week, after the usual depressingly pitch black, windswept, rained on, honked at, headlighted, bike avoiding weekday evening sweatfests we have a 2 HOUR 50 MINUTE run on Sunday, this could potentially border on 20 MILES if we go for it. Power socks and sick bags at the ready!