Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble results

The full results can be found here but the key data is as follows:

Foster came 136th out of 293 runners in a time of 38.14

Colin, who I met after the finish, beat me by just over two minutes and 36 places.

In first place was Louis Taub in a time of 26.41, whilst last place was taken by John Hay, from the same running club, in 64.22.  Incidentally, by all accounts John received a bigger round of applause than anyone else… sometimes it just pays to wait until there are more people to cheer you home!

One for the legs

Since last week’s short Monday run on the machine seemed good at negating the wobbly-walking after-effects of the previous day’s jaunt, I decided I had better do it again.  Especially in view of yesterday’s odyssey.  This time I remembered before breakfast… well, actually as I tried to negotiate my way down the stairs.. so I managed to get a whole mile in.  Barefoot again, as my inside shoes are now officially my outside shoes.

One mile in 10.54 (about 5.5mph) is never going to set the record books alight, but if it helps me to look relatively normal tomorrow (the second day after exercise is always the worst for me) then no-one need be the wiser.

Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble, part d’ugh

Somehow (don’t ask!), after a round of toast, a shower and another quadspresso, and with the weather now remarkably cloudy and cool, I found myself back in Wivelsfield on the start line of the 4.5-mile Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble.

The cooler turn of weather had been one of the reasons for me changing my mind, but as I stood waiting for the off, so the sun came back out and the temperature and humidity notched back up a gear.  Also, as I looked around me, there was a sea of different AC shirts… this was not going to be a walk in the park on any front.

The whistle sounded and we were off… in fact, about half the field just disappeared in a cloud of dust.  I settled into a more enjoyable pace, doing my best to shake loose of a girl listening to her iPlayer who clearly didn’t realise just, er, how shall we say this delicately… how laboured her breathing sounded.

Once clear I found an ideal carrot to follow – for those of you not in the Men’s Sussex Fitness League, this is generally a female bottom (or in the case of the paradoxical women members, a male one), although in my case a simple ponytail is a much better lure.

This particular Steyning Runners ponytail was perfect insofar that her pace was just faster than I wanted to go… I hung on as best I could, but she eventually got the better of me around the 4-mile mark.

In the dim and distant past, when I was younger and fitter, I would count down 3.5 minutes from the last mile marker and then start sprinting.  Being now more circumspect, older and definitely not as fit, I counted down two minutes from the last half-mile marker and then started merely to stretch my stride out a little.  With my long legs, this tactic enabled me to catch and pass the Steyning ponytail as she legged it down the final straight… sorry!

Even without a flat-out sprint I kind of just wanted to retch, but looking around at the gentile ensemble with their children milling around, I was persuaded that this was probably not a great idea.  Instead I spied a man with enough brains to sit on a covered bench, out of the now hot sun and I staggered across to join him.

Colin, it turned out, had only taken up running a couple of months ago having turned 50 and after a shoulder operation.  The fact that he had already taken up residence on the bench indicated that this injured newbie, four years my senior, had just beaten me round the course… curses!  But I forgave him on account of him turning out to be a bally nice chap!

It also turned out that he had joined the Burgess Hill Runners, which made me think that maybe I should cramp Kim’s style by joining up too.

So results to follow, but 4.5 miles in around 38 minutes… say 7mph.  Not fast, but not bad for my second wobble of the day!

Just one final mention in case you’re thinking that age or infirmity is some kind of barrier to getting out in the fresh air.  As I started my final charge to the line, so I left behind a guy from Haywards Heath Harriers who had pretty effortlessly kept up with me to that point.  I’ve run with him before (I think his name is Mark, but I’m not certain) and he is blind.  He was running with his own ponytail guide who was verbalising the course, which is largely off-road, as she went.  All I can say is Bravo!

Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble, part one

After a slightly more intense (not to mention hot, as their air conditioning had broken down) than normal 9-hour immersion session with a new client on Friday, followed by an almost 2-hour return rail journey, I did very little yesterday other than read, relax and, um, sleep.  And very restful it was too, laying on the recliner in the heat of the afternoon, imagining I could hear the swish of the waves gently lapping at the beach.

Until about 6pm when the heat dropped sufficiently for action-Foster to dash a second coat on most of the back wall of the house.

This morning, despite rising relatively early, I was captivated by my new book (Robin Dunbar is right when he says that we are fascinated by people and behaviour… this book is about the behaviour of the small number of people who drove the recent financial meltdown and it is riviting) and didn’t emerge to run until 7.40am, by which time it was already hot.  My intentions had been grandiose, but I soon realised, having run in the open as far as Ote Hall, that I needed to find some tree-cover lest I melt.

Thus I found myself running through Wivelsfield as the Burgess Hill Runners were setting up the course for this morning’s Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble.  It was a shame I didn’t know it was on as I might have run it, but starting at 11am it would surely be a scorcher and I was already feeling somewhat humid.

I headed for home through the cool shelter of the Magical Path, covering 6.2 miles in 1 hour exactly.

Small step

I’m not sure whether half a mile counts towards anything, but remembering that I had been exhibiting signs of silly walks after my previous two runs, I ran half a mile on the machine this morning.

I had inadvertently christened my ‘indoor’ running shoes in the mud yesterday (not strictly true, as I ran the marathon in them, although this was mainly on tarmac), so I decided to run barefoot.  I had intended to do a mile (in order to be worthy of mention) but after a quarter mile I remembered that I had just eaten breakfast and I decided that there was a balance between loosening my leg muscles and upsetting my digestion at the start of the day!

By the way, I have to report that, as hoped, the lethargy had indeed gone this morning leaving only a trace of tiredness.  However, after my active day yesterday I was to be found comfortably dozing on the sofa for 30 minutes around 9pm last night and after another 20 minutes reading, fast asleep there for a further hour!

One step at a time, huh?

Good & Early

I was due to help a neighbour move a concrete shower tray (double-size) at 8.40am this morning so I got out good and early for a short run.  I’ve not run for two weeks and I think that a combination of heat over that time and no exercise has been leading to a little unusual lethargy first thing in the morning… and also  to my eyes starting to shut around 9.30pm.

It was almost not a good start, as I managed to switch off my alarm without waking up and it was fortunate that Kim nudged me awake at 6.30am.  I sat and woke up with the usual quadspresso and the current book, which is about evolution and language… it’s not as dry as you might think and I was so engrossed that I almost ran out of time, only making it out the door at 7.20am.

I took my favourite little circuit (Royal Oak, Wivelsfield, West Wood, Magical Path) and it was a truly beautiful morning to be out and about, especially as it was still cool enough to run.  Nothing of any import occurred, although I did manage to get 47 minutes of good random thinking time over the 5.2 miles… not that I can now remember particularly what was going through my head, but it was very pleasant.

Having showered and helped move the (heavy!) tray, I set about putting a first coat of paint on the penultimate house wall… I had completed the previous wall on Saturday before we went out to a brilliant party in Hartfield.  With the wall drying, the brushes washed and the sun high and hot in the sky, I sat down to read in the tea-house… alas, not for long.

Somehow, Kim drew my attention to a blue trellis on the big final wall and I set about removing it with gusto… after which it was an easy step to get the paint back out.  I’ve no idea how long it took me to put the first coat on, but somewhere in the region of four hours and rather than a restful and relaxed afternoon I had planned, I spent it pumped up, basted and lightly grilled on gas mark 8.  Still, at least it’s a step closer to the end and it’s going to look great!

Bathing

I awoke feeling particularly groggy yesterday morning and sat nursing first one, then another cup of quadspresso before I could smile enough to go out into the garden.

I had intended to get out for an early run before the heat of the day started to ramp up, but alas, it was already 8am and about 70 degrees, so I voted for a day off.

HA!

I had some tasks, started yesterday or last weekend, to complete before I could sit down and relax.  First on the list was the continuing process of painting the outside walls.  I think that, excluding the back of my neighbours garage, there are ten walls in total (seems like WAY more than that!) and I managed to paint the three largest or most complex last year (and he back of that same garage).  Unfortunately I then had wall insulation so those lovely white walls had 50-calibre bullet holes spread across them all winter.

I had painted the small garage-door wall last weekend and put one cost on the adjacent full height wall.  I had put a first coat on the front door wall on Saturday along with one on the wall that I never see… the back of the garage that only my neighbour has to look at.

So yesterday I second-coated those three walls to effectively finish the front of the house.  Seven down, three to go, but since the sun was now firmly set to BRIGHT and I had the painters version of snow-blindness, I moved to my next tasks… cutting the hedge and then cutting the grass.

Seemingly much, MUCH later in the day, I finally sank into the rare comfort of the recliner on the deck.  The sun was now low in the sky and I had ten or fifteen minutes to go before dinner emerged into the garden.

I lay there, reclining, looking up at wispy wind-blown clouds through polarised sunglasses and for a fleeting moment it was if I was laying in a warm bath, looking at the ceiling and thinking really most pleasant thoughts.

Twenty years

Life is seldom dull and this week was no exception, especially as it ended with a performance of Midsummer Night’s Dream performed in the open air near Wivelsfield for the benefit of St Peter & St James Hospice.  It plays until the 26th June and I highly recommend it, although if you go, I hope for the sake of the players, that it doesn’t rain.  The clouds were gathering as we arrived and the heavens opened mid way through the first half.  We were sitting in comfortable chairs in covered marquees, but the players got doused, not that it affected their smiles and good nature in the least.

Today is the London to Brighton Bike ride, which once again falls on Fathers Day and makes it difficult for me to visit mine!  Happy Fathers Day Dad!

I like to try to get to the top of Ditchling Beacon to share some of their pain (and delight), so I was up early to give me a chance to get there before it got too hot.  The day dawned beautiful but I confess shock when I got outside in my shorts to find that it wasn’t really all that warm!

I ran down to Ditchling via Oldlands Mill and saw my first lone cyclist, who laughed when I asked if he was a front runner… it was 8.30am and the fast guys had been through an hour earlier!

I ran up onto the Beacon… it must have been a while as it was hard work, but I stuck with it and managed to get there without needing to stop.

After some banter with the marshals, who were running around trying to fix the PA system to give encouragement to people as they cycled, or walked up the hill, I headed back via Sporting Cars of Brighton, East End Lane and the path that goes to Ditchling Common Industrial Estate.

I was looking forward to running down the Magical Path, but by the time I got there the clouds had rolled in and it was cold, dark and miserable.  I guess everyone is entitled to their off days!

So 10.75 miles in 1.51.  6mph on the way there (which is pretty good as it includes the Ditchling Beacon climb) but only 5.66mph on the return which reflects how little I have been running lately… also suggested by my need for a nap on the sofa when I returned!

That would be that, but I am reminded that it is twenty years since I actually rode in the London to Brighton bike ride and I thought I would reflect briefly on what has changed in my life, since that time.

I had just bought my first house in June 1990, with the help of my sister. It was a first rung on the housing ladder which I intended to keep for three years.

I valiantly defended my two handkerchiefs of grass from my green-fingered father: one at the front with two small shrubs and one at the back with a shed. Not for me all these plants and stuff: give me grass any day of the week! There were two runs of concrete on which to park my red company Ford Escort and once inside the thin porch, the dominant colour was professionally applied magnolia with expensive curtains, one benefit of buying the house from an ambitious young banker.

I had a lodger, Dawn, who initially slept on the floor, as did I, the only furniture in the house being a sofa that came from my best friend and a wooden coffee table from an antique shop. The latter supported the Rega turntable that half my music revolved around, the other half involving my twelve-string guitar.

I sold Commercial Finance for NWS, which entailed me visiting the myriad small & medium sized businesses across West Sussex and providing the finance for them to buy cars, vans, machinery.  Even then I had a greater interest in what these companies actually did (which often made my work frustrating), something that I had picked up from both my father and from another Mr Foster, Ken, who had employed me in his art gallery a couple of years earlier. Ken had been the FD of a well known travel company and had eventually negotiated its distressed sale for one pound Sterling… a startling and fascinating concept for someone like me, who knew little of business at the time.

Each week I borrowed a lawn mower from my very kind neighbour, Pam (who I went to visit only this week) to cut my grass, me not being able to afford to buy one. I often also cut the grass of the attached house on the other side as it was generally unkempt due to being sporadically rented out. My skills with any other tools, garden or otherwise, left much to be desired.

What has changed since then?  Life in the intervening years has certainly been interesting and there have been both high and low points, the latter including losing three really very good friends, one to Cancer, one sadly to suicide and another to his own avarice.

I sold my first house after 15 years (remember, I had intended to stay there for three), although I also bought, lived in for four years and sold a London flat during that time, enabling me to study for an Executive MBA at London Business School. I have now lived in my current house for five years (with my girlfriend of ten years!).

My father patiently (oh so patiently!) taught me to garden which, aside from considerably enhancing my surroundings at both houses, has instilled a much valued patience in me too. My treasured hi-fi has been sold and replaced with the kind of micro system (now itself old-fashioned) that I would have laughed at before. And I have stuff, lots of stuff, which for someone who is a minimalist at heart is fascinating. I wonder if we are hard wired to accumulate things until we have filled every nook & cranny.

I now work with the type of companies I visited twenty years ago, getting to ask those more searching questions and adding value by helping them to overcome their challenges or develop differentiated business strategies. My own current business is young and I earn even less than I did back then but my life is evolving, just as Charles Handy suggested it would in his book the Elephant and the Flea, into a portfolio of interests. Each of which I’m really passionate about in a driven way.

My Porsche of eight years sits on the driveway that I designed, while I sit and read (and once again today, type) in the tea-house that I also designed and patiently made.  I have time to read and to think, which is how I perceive I add the greatest value to my clients.  It’s the kind of lifestyle I might have only dreamed about twenty years ago. Not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but I’m very happy with it.

Though I really wonder what life will be like for me in another twenty years time?

Picture this

Picture me, if you will, sitting peacefully in the tea-house, lap-top on lap, cup of Earl Grey to… er, hang on just a minute.  As I was saying, picture me in the tea-house with a cup of Earl Grey to hand, penning this very line and appreciating the fruits of yesterday’s labour: The big hedge which I gently manicured (with the aid of a hedge-trimmer), the clear roof of the tea-house, which I washed and hosed down, and the tall bamboo panels in the corner ahead of me as I sit, which I removed and replaced straight as they had been knocked sideways by my neighbours replacing their own garden fence.

I did one or two other things and the general combination sent me to sleep on the sofa around 8.30pm… from this point, aside from getting up and going to bed, I slept for 11.5 hours straight and woke this morning in a slightly groggy frame of body.

Nevertheless, after a banana, a good strong coffee and an hour spent reading the Economist, I sallied forth in my liveried running kit.  Cliff had been unable to run this morning and while I briefly flirted with the idea of driving to Jack & Jill, it was simpler to run straight from the house.  Mindful that my last two runs were short ones around the same circuit, I determined to go a different way and for slightly longer.

I ran out past Ote Hall and to the small hamlet around Wivelsfield Church, where even the public footpaths are well kept.

I then ran past the quizzical Alpacas (although I always think of them as Debbs Pyjamas, so convinced was I that this American friend of Darens was hallucinating about what she had seen on a walk around the local countryside!)

As I ran to Wivelsfield itself and out the other side, I reflected how beautiful the countryside around here really is.

I ran most of the way down Hundred Acre Lane before cutting across to the industrial estate and on down the Magical Path.

From here it was only a short way home across the common.

Overall it was a very pleasant run indeed and though I was alone (as you can be with dog-walkers, cyclists and other runners on a warm June day), it was gratifyingly less like the target-driven training runs that typified the first four months of the year!  This was reflected in the 1.13 that it took me to cover 7.45 beautiful miles (a slumberous 6.12mph).

Tea finished, I must away and find a chore or two to do, lest I can’t get to sleep on the sofa this evening.