Week 14: Tape-ring (tapering) – eh! eh? eh :-(

When eavesdropping around more experienced runners it seems that the hard running should now be done. Pity no one seemed to tell Lee as he ran to Chichester from Brackleham and back on the weekend - the animal. But this should now finally be the end to the mega runs until the megarest run of them all in 3 weeks time.

Personally I found last week frustrating as I was held back by the fear of my foot falling off. During this time I tried swimming to keep active but translating training runs to the swimming pool didn’t really work – especially the bits which resulted in:

A)    Being stuck behind an OAP aerobics class
B)    Nearly swallowing a floating plaster
C)    The constant paranoia of inhaling a mixture of chlorine and urine

I have decided swimming is rubbish.

Anyway the heel seems to be much better thanks to lots of ice, stretching and the discovery of Kinesio sports tape.

With all these steps in place I tested it out on Saturday and was relieved to feel very little pain. Such was my euphoria at being able to run again I even stopped to tell a fellow injured runner who was holding his ankle about it, he looked at me with distrust and disgust like I was employed by Kinseo tape plc such was my enthusiasm and insistence to spell out their company name loudly to him and command him to buy some. Thinking back this could also have been because I was gleefully telling him how I was once injured just like him, before running off. Bah.

Another (and probably the biggest) advantage of sports tape is that I now look like Robocop, if Robocop was played by a balding tramp in a vest and used sports tape as armour rather than metal. Peow Peow!

Christien Corner

We went on a training run last weekend, the night of the super moon, it was foggy and cold on them there cliffs, out of nowhere Dan and I found ourselves running alongside a peculiar chap in a Victorian scientists costume. It seemed a bit strange to be wearing a ‘charity marathon costume’ on a training run at the dead of night, on the cliffs, by himself- but hey, running’s a broad church. We asked what charity he was running for and he started talking this crazy stuff to us as we ran;

“Like a panther cub, I put on my singlet this evening and sprinted headlong into the sea of liberty. Let me but escape into my laboratory door, give me but a second or two to hitch up my knee support, mix a sugary drink and swallow a carb gel: the draught that I had always standing ready; and whatever he had done, Edward Hyde would pass away like the stain of breath upon a mirror; and there in his stead, quietly at home, trimming the midnight lamp in his study, a man who could afford to laugh at suspicion, would be Henry Jekyll. The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were, as I have said, undignified; I would scarce use a harder term.

But in the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn toward the monstrous.  When I would come back from running excursions, I was often plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity. I sent forth alone to do his marathon training, It is a task inherently malign and
Villainous; his every act and thought centered on running; drinking pleasure with bestial avidity from any degree of torture to another; relentless like a running buffoon.  Henry Jekyll ran at seven minute miles, And thus his conscience slumbered.”

 

Hang on, I didn’t go running with Dan this weekend? I err? I was, umm? What did I do? Think! Hmm. The last thing I remember is I put on my running shoes. I walked to the fridge. I reached for a lucosade and started to drink it then…Complete blank? Oh well. I might go have another lucosade from the fridge to help me concentrate, hold up these running shoes aren’t mine! AHHHHHHH.

Week 13: To Heel and Back....

With the marathon under a month away (sheeeeet!) this week was supposed be the heroic pinnacle of our training  - with a 22 mile run planned for Sunday (Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!), before we could finally start tapering the runs down.

However things did not go as planned, with Simon now dead and Lee committed to a wedding in Scotland (Lee: Congratulations Lucy and John) I selfishly thought I would be going it alone on Sunday, but on Thursday bad things happened. Firstly it was windy – oh well can handle wind it makes my strand of hair look sexy - onwards!, then it rained a little – keeping me cool and making the t-shirt see-through - I like your sexy style rain cloud! Then I pulled my Achilles Tendon – AY CURUMBA! SANTA MARIA! SHOW NO PAIN! PEOPLE ARE LOOKING! STOP SCREAMING! Instead of handling this like a sensible person and stopping, my alpha running ego decided to save face in front of a shocked dog walker and carry on. Advice to fellow runnerers. Do not do this. It break you. It break you real bad.

With the inability to walk on Friday I began to question this decision, come Saturday and having to crawl down the stairs hands first I realised I was an idiot, come Sunday I found I would be spending the entire day playing Toploader’s hit number 43 single ‘Achilles Heel’ (luckily I have 2 copies, single and album version) on repeat while weeping into a pillow and eating bag after bag of Hula Hoops.

My Achilles heel had become my Achilles heel – woe the irony woe! The strangest thing I’ve found about the being injured experience (other than the cats fainting around the house from the Deep Heat fumes), is the discovery that not being able to run has made realise I’m actually enjoying this running lark. I’m now looking at fellow runners on the seafront with envy rather than pity. What have I become?

Anyway I’ve been recommended to rest it, which fortunately is something panthers excel at, so hopefully it should ‘heel’ (eh!) by next week so we can complete our epic 22 miler and get on with our lives.

The end....for Panther Simon

Simon Letchford’s injury is a desperately sad way to end his Marathon dream.

Simon Letchford has fallen victim to the silent assassin of runners, a torn Knee muscle, the injury that occurs even when no opponent is close by, the incapacitation that brings curtains down on careers.

Even for those who felt his usefulness to the Panthers team had long gone, this is a desperately sad development.

Medicine has advanced, of course, and Letchford is a tough cookie, but sadly even that is not enough to save him from being taken out back and shot….. That’s what they do to animals that can no longer perform you know…

Here is how it went down that fateful evening... The Panthers pen Simon in a makeshift cage. A grieving Dan is forced to shoot Simon and, in doing so, takes his first step towards adulthood.  Heartbroken from the death of his beloved dog, Dan refuses the offer of a new puppy sired by Simon. Lee comes home with a bagful of money and presents for the Panther family. Having learned about Simon's fate from Dan, he explains the facts about life and death.  So Sad……..sniff sniff

So the last image we are likely to remember of Simon Letchford’s running career are of him wearing a fez and hobbling around Brighton with a poorly knee. Ahh bless him!!

Every bursted bubble has a glory!
Each abysmal failure makes a point!
Every glowing path that goes astray,
Shows you how to find a better way.
So every time you stumble never grumble.
Next time you'll bumble even less!
For up from the ashes, up from the ashes, grow the roses of success!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses!
Grow the roses of success!
Oh yes!

R.I.P Panther Simon

Week 12: Back in the Running

Dan: After the post half-marathon blues, where we found it difficult to regain motivation (probably because of a false sense of achievement – how dare we) this week we were determined to lift ourselves and get back on track. It’s just a shame then that this track was 20 miles long - Oooo yes that’s right! Sunday saw Lee and me conquer the 20 mile run BRRMM!

The decision to start our mega run at 9am rather than midday led to the predictable need for a toilet break. What wasn’t so predictable was that this need hit us both at the same time (our bowels now synchronised after running together for so long). After arrogantly stating that I would go first as I was ‘fastest’ at toileting, I was stuck for 11 minutes while Lee was left to circle to public toilet like a constipated vulture. When I came out I was surprised to see him sprinting up the Hove seafront to the next block. I have never seen a human move so fast.

Lee: My testosterone on the longer runs is becoming a bit of a public nuisance. I imagine the arrest will go something like this;

Someone must have been telling lies about Lee C, he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested. Every day at eight in the morning he was brought his breakfast by Mr. Craig David – Mr. Craig David was his landlady - but today she didn't come. C waited a little while and rang the bell. Immediately a man entered. He was slim but firmly built, his clothes were black and close-fitting. "Who are you?" asked C, sitting half upright in his bed. The man, however, ignored the question as if his arrival simply had to be accepted, and replied, "You rang?" "Craig David should have brought me my breakfast," said C. The man went over to the door, opened it slightly, and said to someone who was clearly standing behind it, "He wants Craig David to bring him his breakfast." There was a little laughter, it was not clear from the sound of it whether there were several people laughing. The man said to C, as if making his report "It is not possible." "It would be the first time that's happened," said C, as he jumped out of bed and quickly pulled on his running shorts. "I want to see who that is in the next room, and why it is that Mr Craig David has let me be disturbed in this way." The man said, " You'd better stay where you are. You’re under arrest"

I should imagine the case will go something like this;

Judge: Can we call the first witness, the nice old man.

Prosecutor: Hello nice old man.

Nice old man: Hello.

Prosecutor: What happened?

Nice old man: I was taking a photo of the colourful beach huts along Hove seafront because they are lovely..

Judge: Indeed! they are! I own a splendid yellow one with storage space for my bucket and spade. I do have a lovely time on the beach, when the weather permits it of course. The sunny days seem to get less and less you know. Um, carry on.
 

Nice old man: Yes your honour, well, as I was saying. I has my camera all set up to take a snap when two runners  ran in front of my camera-those two in the dock. “I heard one of them say, ooo sorry mate” . But the other one said to his fellow runner loud enough for me to hear “Well I’m not going to apologise. Taking pictures of huts is a rubbish hobby, suitable only for someone who thinks being stupid is a new and exciting thing do. The happy snapping fascist”

Courtroom: shock!

Judge: Alpha male Runner is the next witness. Please sir, what happened?

Alpha male Runner: Well I saw those two in the dock, one of them blew his nose and it went all over the others top. Then he, he wiped it off. (Alpha male runner passes out)

Prosecutor: How base has running become your honour!

Judge: Next witness! What happened!

Car man: Well I was driving fast along marine drive and heard one of them say “He’s been drinking from the devils water bottle, BP BP BP!”

Judge: Case close! Guilty as charged-My sentence is you will have to run the MARATHON. Take them away.

Court room: Cheers and jubilation.

  

SIMON BACK FROM THE GRAVE!

Like the T-2000 with dodgy knees, Simon has reformed and appears to be back in the running for the marathon. Hoorraaay. This decision was in no way affected through immense peer pressure.

Celebratory back from the grave image please Simon….

 

Celebratory? Really? Well thank you Simon.

CAN WE HAVE SOME MONEY PLEASE REMINDER

These hot buns and dynamite abs don't pay for themselves! Neither do goal posts or shuttlecocks. Pleeaase we're nearing the begging stage: http://www.justgiving.com/panther-dash

NEWSFLASH: PANTHER SPOTTED (AGAIN!)

Simon’s leisurely run through Preston Park descended into chaos on Saturday as he was spotted by a civilian rummaging through a garden.

http://www.theargus.co.uk/news/8894043.Has_the_Preston_Park_Panther_been_on_the_prowl_/

“I was shocked and quite surprised.” Said witness, 18.

“I was just pouring myself a glass of water and suddenly saw what I thought was a cat jumping down into the garden.” (Simon testing knee)

“It went behind a bush and I thought maybe it’s not a cat.” (Yes – it’s a panther - duh)

“It was walking along the garden and it was very big, far bigger than any cat I had seen before.” (HELLO! BECAUSE IT WAS A PANTHER!)

“I have a Yorkshire Terrier and she is quite big but the cat looked much bigger than her.” (See above)

Luckily Simon escaped uncaptured.

Week 11: PAWLY PANTHER DISASTER NEWSFLASH!‏

Panther Simon has suffered an injury to his knee and after several vets and wildlife experts have tried in vain to bring it back to life, may have to withdraw from the marathon. This is obviously devastating news for Simon, and very sad for us two ‘never ran a marathon before morons’ – basically this is what Simba felt like when his dad got pushed off a cliff by Alan Rickman.

PANTHER MINUTE SILENCE. PEEP…………….

*respectful applause*

An artistic impression of how Simon suffered the injury can be seen in Figure 1:

Figure 1: He slipped and fell into a baby panthers mouth. Oh the irony.

So here we are half way through our training, broken men and potentially reduced to two. You’re probably bored of us going on and on about running by now. We are. So you should be. To counter this we were going to write a Panther Dash lifestyle magazine inspired by Gwyneth Paltrow’s GOOP with fashion tips, an agony aunt column, crossword and even an extract from Matthew Mahogony’s autobiography. In fact we did write a lifestyle magazine, POOP (P for Panther), but it ended up being over 1000 words long and maybe a bit too creative for most civilised people. When we sat back to read it, it basically looked like we were suffering some sort of Panther marathon breakdown.

 Rare unseen archives from POOP

Then we realised! ‘Come on panthers! Guys…Guys? Guys! People want to hear us moan on and on about absolutely nothing except running, pain and the amount of friends we’re losing due to constant cancelling of social events and football along this terrible, awful, awfully terrible journey’, and with this in mind we will endeavour to moan on and on about the pain and the losing of friends through constant cancellations of social events and football. You lucky, lucky people.

So here it is – our running report for last week: It was rubbish.

Please light a candle for Simon's knee. Chanting may also help. Thank you.

………….PEEP