Week 15: THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

Finally the week we have been waiting for is here. After 15 harrowing weeks of training we finally have license to sit back, open the fridge, cupboard, bread bin, Indian menu, Chinese menu, Thai menu, Mongolian menu, go round next door and take all their food, rob a child of his haribo in the street, pasta, food words, and commit carbicide on a biblical scale.

Ain’t no party like a pasta party (apart from an actual party). Sssss-cluuub.

Paranoia about legs and feet is now at the maximum setting. I didn’t realise this until a child touched my toe with his toy scooter on the bus. Oh yeah he dead. They are now wrapped in bubblewrap until the big day (our feet and legs, not the people who have DEFINATELY tried to injure them – they are buried in the garden).

In other news we decided that we were going to buy some super short shorts to show off our supreme thighs, but were talked out of it by a shop assistant who said they were ‘a bit 80’s’ while looking directly into my eyes pleadingly shaking his head mouthing ‘NO!’. If the person selling them was talking me out of buying them, clearly we have been saved some embarrassment.

SPONSORSHIP MESSAGE

As regular readers of this Blog may have noticed the overall theme has been one of post /Uncultured-Luxemburgist-Marxist/destructuralist/ femidon /Euro-Loch-nessy /Biscuit-Crumb chin strokism. Maybe, if we had been a bit more po-faced about the reason we were doing the Marathon i.e. for a charity we care about, we may have had greater sponsor success?

We debated early on how to approach our marketing strategy at the Elite Extreme Panther Dash AGM In January (You can view the Minutes online). Whilst sipping Skinny Latte’s  and OMG-ing about the potential of the new media phenomena to make money.

Postive Statements to TWEET:

1.       Sponsor us.
2.       Please sponsor us.
3.       We would appreciate it if you sponsored us.
4.       Free back rubs on us!

Reverse Psychology Mobile Ring Tones:

1.       Don’t Sponsor us.
2.       Please Don’t sponsor us.
3.       We would appreciate it if you didn’t sponsored us.
4.       LMAO! Charity?! Save that crumpled up fiver in your pocket to spend on your favourite hobby. Tea-bagging. Everybody Knows. On your Brow.

Political @TWEETS:

1.       @RioFerdinand.YOU BEEN MERC’D BRO! Pay your Taxes and sponsor the Arms Trade. Give Panthers a fiver for play time equipment, in countries that your taxes help rich people like yourself oppress. 
2.       @LadyGaga; leek OMG leek gives us some ££££idge leek.

Avant Garde PAPS:

1.       Meow.
2.       Purrrrr

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

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!

Week 7: Meh

Week 7 saw Lee fall to the flu, probably not helped by running in sub zero temperatures every other day for 4 weeks in a row.

The training programme is now up to 5 nights a week (5 NIGHTS!). But the times saw a slight ease with the Sunday run only demanding 1hr 40 mins, ahohoho.

There isn’t much to report on the evening runs except they are hellish and freezing and sapping all my life energy and will power and I hate them and my legs constantly hurt and I cant play football properly anymore and I wasn’t very good beforehand so this isn’t helping and there’s still 10 weeks of this awfulness left.

I’m finding that I am getting quite irritable around the house as a result of having no energy or free time and I am starting to misjudge basic routine tasks. For example washing up is now not allowed after I destroyed the kitchen trying to dry a cup. Also answering the door is forbidden after collapsing over a radiator trying to get to the door. The cats have started looking at me in wide eyed horror as I crash about from room to room. My sole household responsibilities are now: 

1. Completing Dead Space 2
2. Running 
3. Not breaking anything

On the plus side my legs are starting to feel more resilient and used to this abuse and my speed is noticeable increasing. I’m not sure if speed is a desirable attribute anymore with all this civilisation thing, but it is good to know that if we lived in prehistoric times I would be able to outrun a stegosaurus over a long distance.

Week 6: Bring on the Wall....

Weeks 6’s Thursday saw the panthers running together for the first time, and with Simon’s casual urban wear, Lee’s sophisticated scarf and gloves and my hi vis jacket we looked like the evolution of man (I’m not sure in what order) running along the promenade. Anyway the run was a nice 1.2 hrs and spirits were high.

Sunday = 16 miles along the Brighton coastline. This was the furthest either Lee or myself had ever ran and following on from a night out, was typically horrendous. The problems started from the beginning, where after careful planning to establish where to meet Lee went under-cliff while I went over-cliff. The only fun part of the run now eliminated we were left to think of each other’s fate, either A) waking up and not being bothered, B) injury, C) death.

Luckily we bumped into each other about 10 miles in and rejoiced, laughed and regaled stories of our adventure so far (through grunts and accusing looks).

This aside the run was ok up until about 12-13 miles, when, with no water or energy supplement planned we experienced what is often described as ‘THE WALL’. This was no garden wall either, more a Berlin Wall, but one that couldn’t be knocked down, like the Great Wall of China or the one from Hole in the Wall.

After a punchdrunk Lee nearly attacked a dog for walking in front of him and finished, I was left to crawl back towards Saltdean. I knew I was in trouble at around 15 miles when an old lady in Rottingdean started to clap me…as she overtook me while walking her dog. She must have been 80.

Week 5: Pain.

Give a man a football and he’ll play for a day, give a man a 0.5mm pump valve and extendable pump and he can play for a lifetime (depending on availability of footballs).

This weeks training started well enough, meeting celebrity Rottingdean runner Jac for a 5 mile run along the coast on Tuesday. All was good in the world. Thursday was not so fun, Saturday – easy peasey, in your face Saturday you are nothing to me. The worst came during the 2 hour Sunday run with Lee where the conversation mainly focused on pain, pain in legs, pain in knees, pain, foot pain, pain pain and more leg pain, back pain, lower leg pain, calve pain, thigh pain, elbow pain, face pain, hair pain.

Lee summed it up well in a moving email explaining his inner thoughts a couple of days afterwards:

‘If running was a genre of music, it would be Celine Dion B-sides. It is the most stupid thing I have ever done. My legs hurt, I have no friends and I am considering giving up training and instead just turning up on marathon day dressed as Keith Richards and washing down half a bottle brandy with a heroic dose of wraps of amphetamines and doing air guitar to street fighting man.’

During this period, experienced marathon panther Simon undertook his own unconventional training, predominantly consisting of ice skating around the Royal Pavilion. See evidence of his majestic balance below (looks painful):

Sponsorship would be appreciated, we only need another 96%. 96% COME ON MONEY FRIENDS.

Those kids need them goal posts and they are not going to build themselves, unless they a have a couple of spare goats which could be used – but the goats would probably walk off and no one likes to argue over whether a high shot was ‘just over’ or ‘in off the bar’, when there is no bar – YOU can stop this from happening. Sponsor us. Give a child in need of a well a goal with a bar. 

Thank you.

Week 4: Snap, Crackle and Snap

Like everyone’s favourite Power Ranger, Green Ranger (obviously), Team Panther Dash joined the party late and are perhaps overenthusiastically trying to catch up.

Last week the training started, and so far everything has gone surprisingly well. We started by going solo with 4 runs along the Brighton coast, culminating in a group 10.5 mile run pass the West Pier and down to Saltdean on Sunday. We were enjoying the spectacle of Brighton on a sunny morning, when disaster almost struck…perhaps distracted by the crazy golf, Lee nearly decapitated an Italian child on a push scooter as the bambino recklessly careered from behind a blind spot, thankfully disaster was avoided and Lee was able to offer some considered contraception advice to the awestruck mother (“AY CURUMBA PANTEHERO’S!”).

Urban runners don’t say hello to you like our nice rural runner friends do on the downs. We tallied 2/12 who acknowledged us (I mean ‘Hello! We’re the Panthers!’). Although we did get into a chat with a nice man about the marathon, but that ended a bit weirdly as we were all running at the same speed so we couldn’t let the conversation end naturally, we just ran out of things to say and had to run side by side in awkward silence, mile after mile.

Pain and bakery update:

Dan: behind knees. Also made flapjacks – 150g unsalted butter, 250g oats, 150g golden syrup, mix on hob then bake for 25 minutes – 8/10, going to pimp these bad boys with some mixed fruit this week.

Lee: Uninjured

Simon: Buttock 

See figure 1.

Now all we need is for Simon to assign us all Thundercat names and ideally insert our faces into their characters.....

HOOOOOOO!

Week 3: Bloated panthers ride again…

With the traditional panther festivities finally over (hunting, rearing the cubs, rolling in the long grass, watching the Eastenders Christmas special – OMG Janine WTF!) a bloated Team Panther Dash can finally begin our marathon training regime proper.

The break did give a chance for a couple of short runs across the rolling hills*, treadmills and to the toilet after the marathon diet quite literally ‘backfired’.

A training plan has now been drawn up, based on the Brighton Marathon intermediate plan. It basically consists of 4 runs a week (5 miles Tuesday and Thursday, a shorter one Saturday and a longer one Sunday starting at 10 miles this Sunday). We started the regime yesterday. Panther frown.

At the moment we’re quite excited about it, it will be interesting to see if this excitement is maintained by week 13 (or week 2).

Happy new year and please give us your money.

*it appears our hill runs haven’t gone unnoticed, so we’ll have to be careful not to look too panthery in case a strange man doesn’t jump out of a bush to catch us.

Week Two: It’s a marathon not a sprint….

Welcome back Panther fans! 

This week we’ve seen a start to the heroic marathon diet. After extensive research it was found that to run a marathon a man needs much food (roughly three times that of a pregnant lady – it didn’t say the size of lady).

This has led to some empowering portions at lunch time and interesting conversations with the Nice Canteen Lady (NCL). On Thursday, for example, our conversation went something like this:

(Panther#1 boldly walks up to till with standard meal…+ rice…+ 2x bread rolls…+ 2x flora)

Nice Canteen Lady (looks at extra bread rolls, rice and 2x flora): £3.50 please

Panter#1: I’m running a marathon alright!

Clearly all the bases are covered.

In other news Lee started running (don’t know why, we’ve got a blog, dance routine and diet sorted so it should all fall into place anyway). He sprinted 4 miles over 20 minutes. The mans a machine. He once won a bike race which included a voluntary detour up Ditchling Beacon and a visit to the shops because he was ‘embarrassed by winning’. That embarrassment better be conquered by race day because I can see Lee taking home the gold with or without scenic detours.

We also went on our first group run…well we were going to, but it was snowing, plus it was cold and the Eastenders omnibus was on. Panthers don’t like the cold, if we did we would be polar bears.

Now all we need is a picture of us all mocked up in Street Fighter attire…..Thanks Simon for mocking us all up in Street Fighter attire. 

 Big thanks to our first sponsors! Panther paw high five!

Week One - WHAT HAVE WE DONE?

Welcome to Lee Christien, Simon Letchford and Daniel Hawkins’ Brighton marathon blog!

Individually we are three average/extremely attractive men, but with our powers combined we are the…Elite Extreme Panther Dash! Meow!

Here we will keep you updated with developments of our training regime, weight loss, weight gain, power struggles, breakdowns, leg breaks and eventual failure.

But before all this can begin, we need a logo….thank you Simon for the logo.

We're aware that we have entered this quite late, especially when considering I hope and fully expect Team Elite Panther Dash to take the top 3 finishing spots. However we have the two most important elements in place: Logo and Blog. Now all we need is to practice the Chariots of Fire Theme Tune and Celebratory Dances and we are done. Also best start going for joggings.

Please donate kindly (we went for the least emotive charity possible so not to appear too desperate or obvious). We are combining our powers to help raise money for Right To Play (Righttoplay.com).

Much love,

The Elite Panther Dash 5000 Deluxe (team trading cards just in time for Christmas ;-))