Chewin’ out a rhythm on my bubble gum The sun is out and I want some It’s not hard, not far to reach We can hitch a ride To Rockaway Beach
The Ramones
Well, September has been a shit month. I’ve had a problem with my left knee all summer which I’ve tried to manage. I was due to run Cheltenham Half Marathon at the beginning of the month but I didn’t feel ready and turned all my attention to the Torbay Half Marathon. My wife and son, Sue and Elliot, went to Paignton many years ago for a weekend away but I didn’t realise that the Torbay Half Marathon was to be ran that weekend. That was in June but now the race is scheduled in late September and the the weather can’t be trusted especially on the coast where rain and wind can pick up.
I love Paignton, the town and the beach, and the opportunity to run the half was something I couldn’t resist. A weekend away at the beginning of autumn would be just perfect to recharge my old bones even if I had to run 13.1 miles. Running is essential for my physical and mental well being. I have a daily log to achieve. I have to walk 10000 steps, walk a mile, hydrate and do a 30 minute activity every day. These obsessions keep me sane!
Imagine how I felt when on the Saturday morning, the day before the event, I received a message to say that the race had been cancelled due to a weather forecast of high winds and heavy rain for the following day. Overnight accommodation had been booked and paid for, travel expenses paid for and all lost. At least the entry fee could be refunded but I had lost a lot of money.
Apparently, Sunday’s weather in Devon wasn’t too bad and many of the entrants ran the race anyway. I realise that race organisers should take bad weather into consideration, especially for marshals, but runners do make many sacrifices to run these events and it costs the ones who have to travel financially.
Every chance, every chance that I take I take it on the road Those kilometers and the red lights I was always looking left and right Oh, but I’m Always crashing in the same car
David Bowie
Newport Half Marathon Rhan Dau (Part Two)
The Newport Marathon is a hugely popular event with a 10km race and children’s races. This year, with famous Welsh road runner Steve Brace as Race Director, the route was changed and a half marathon was included to make it a genuine festival of running. As the half marathon course was totally different to the Admiral Half Marathon course in March, I thought it was worth a go and a perfect excuse to see my son Elliot who went to university in Newport and now lives there. I had entered quite late and, with so many races going ahead, accommodation was hard to find but I managed to find somewhere and with a good price.
Race weekend arrived and Sue and me walked to the station to board our train, which of course was delayed. The train was rammed as usual for a Saturday. It was full of Hen parties, Stag parties, shoppers for Bristol and Cardiff and, as Bristol City were at home, football fans. The Guard beckoned us towards her to board the train to avoid further delays and we ended up in First Class. I’ve known from experience that Guards allow passengers into First Class until seats become available and we did have reserved seats. The same Guard came to check our tickets and told us we had to move to Standard Class. The Guard was quite surly and I tried to explain we would move at Weston-Super-Mare when seats may be free. Really railway staff do need to have customer service training!
We arrived at Newport on time thanks to a reduced wait at Bristol Temple Meads. Elliot had been messaging me during his break and hadn’t heard of our hotel. This sent alarm bells. Would we have to return back home? We disembarked the train and I decided the first thing we should do is try and seek out our hotel. We headed out towards Newport High Street where our hotel was to be found and it wasn’t to be found. I asked a local bar owner if he had heard of it and he hadn’t. He tried to find it on his mobile phone but with no success. I thought maybe that the venue was down a side street, so I enquired at another pub but the bar maid had never heard of it. I then bumped into a postman. If a local publican doesn’t know where it is, surely a postman would. No. The address was 62 High Street and the High Street went as far as 55 🤬. Elliot had now finished his shift so it was time for lunch at Drago Lounge and a perfect burger. There I phoned the establishment and found out it was a hotel that we had stayed at before but had been taken over. Why they couldn’t say the Black Iris previously known as the Silurian is totally beyond me but we were happy to have somewhere to stay.
Evening drinks were at Ye Olde Murenger House. The oldest pub in Newport. This pub was about 20 yards from our hotel and in the middle of Newport’s pub world. Maybe 6 or 7 pubs or bars in about a quarter of a mile. Perfect for a quiet pint or several. No televisions, no blaring music, and no kids with fake IDs
Race morning and my usual nerves. Since my bowel cancer I am so nervous and aware of taking medication to hopefully get around the course without ‘incidents’. We meet up with Elliot and walk the half mile or so to the start outside his former university campus. Eventually 9 o’clock comes round and we set off. The marathoners and half marathoners first and then followed 45 minutes later by the 10km runners. The first mile is a loop of the city and back through the start and outwards. Nerves and uncertainty caused me to feel quite nauseous and after about half a mile I needed to be sick. ‘Crikey’ I thought. I’m never going to do this. I decided if I saw Sue and Elliot at the campus, I’d quit. But, I didn’t. So carried on and if needs be I’ll be carried home in the ‘broom wagon’. The race headed out over the bridge and through the Newport Stadium concourse, the former home ground of Newport County AFC. I was feeling better and was getting into my work. The miles ticked by on the flat course along traffic free country roads. The weather was fine and I started to enjoy the run. At about 12 miles the half marathon merged with the slower 10km runners and this presented problems. Slower runners tend to run in social packs so cutting through them meant meandering from side to side. Back over the bridge and the finish in sight. Finished in 1.49:12, excluding puking time and I’m happy.
Medal and bleeding nipples 😨
Lunch at Wagamama and celebratory drinks at Wetherspoons whilst waiting for our train home!
This blog is dedicated to Brenda Bayliss, my wife’s aunt, who unfortunately died of cancer this week.
Well, this could be the last time This could be the last time Maybe the last time I don’t know Oh, no Oh, no
Rolling Stones
March and it’s time for one of my favourite races, Newport Half Marathon. It’s a favourite because I can combine visiting my son, Elliot, and a race of my favourite and, traditionally, my best distance. 5km isn’t worth getting out of bed for. Too short and too fast even though my personal best is 16.34. 10km again is shortish but my mind always wanders in the middle section and it’s a distance I’ve never really mastered. The half marathon, for me, is totally different. 13.1 miles is the sort of distance can make up the difference after a sluggish start especially given that these races have a huge participation and working your way through the field in the early miles can be tricky. I tend to run negative in my racing days. That means running the second half faster than the first. I’ve always been told if I pass you at halfway, I’ll beat you. In those days, I ran many times under 1 hour 20 minutes. Of course times change and my running now is so much different to my younger days.
Travelling by train is fraught with so many challenges and this was to be a fine example. Sue and myself managed to squeeze on board our carriage. Carriage according to an online dictionary states any of the separateparts of a train in which the passengerssit. That’s a laugh as we were held upright by Bristol City fans going to the early Championship kick off versus Cardiff City at Ashton Gate, Bristol. Thankfully, football fans are better behaved than the 1970s version and there was no sign of any trouble. The train manager was well aware of the fixture so why weren’t her superiors and put on another carriage? Even though we were all packed in like sardines, the atmosphere was quite jolly but I bet the return journey was not so as Bristol City lost 1 nil.
At Bristol Temple Meads the train lost many passengers and seats were to be found. I had reserved seats but on a crowded train I knew this it was pointless to challenge people. Bristol during the night/early morning had had a generous sprinkling of snow which had now turned to rain. The children on our carriage were amused and entertained by such weather. When we pulled into Filton Abbey Wood such feelings from the adults were not so vibrant. The train manager announced that Patchway tunnel was flooded and a landslip had covered the line. It seems every trip to a race I make Great Western Railways puts a block in the way and every fresh announcement was drowned out by those bloody kids. First we were waiting for engineers to make it safe, then we had to head back to Bristol Temple Meads, then South Wales was completely cut off and all the time those bloody kids were screaming. Where’s the parental control I kept asking myself, it’s hard to hear the information. Eventually, after an hour of waiting, we could pass through on an another line through the tunnel.
Drago Lounge
By the time we hit Newport we were tired, fed up and hungry. We met up with our son, Elliot, and went to where his best mate, Damo, works for lunch. Damo is the manager of Drago Lounge and Drago Lounge serves the best burgers I have ever eaten. After the recent FA Cup tie between Newport County and Manchester United the BBC rocked up to feast on their tasty burgers. Unfortunately they are no reviews from Gary Lineker or Alan Shearer. We met up later after a rest and had far too much to drink but I do see my son so infrequently so I know you’ll understand. Elliot had some trouble from his manager about having time off and had to work from 5am to 12pm so he must have been knackered but he had time for us. We are like two peas in a pod and I always appreciate him.
Sunday morning and race day. Cold and icy but beautiful blue skies and sunshine. I knew I should’ve brought my sunglasses! I didn’t run those long runs in training but I ran regularly and at a good lick which was always part of my training schedule when I raced well years ago so I knew I was in goodish shape. I love the Newport Half because as a city half marathon it offers so much. The section from the city out and back to Caerleon is so good and challenging for a runner. At around 9 miles a kindly business spread rock salt across the path in a shady spot but by in large ice wasn’t too much of a problem as the warm sunshine ha melted most. Support is fantastic all along the course, all clapping and now with some with cowbells. A lone Welsh bagpiper played under a motorway bridge. All this mounts up to make the Newport Half Marathon one of my all time favourite events over 20 plus years of racing, and I get to see my son.
Mission Accomplished
I crossed the finish line in 1 hour 48 minutes, my fastest half marathon in a couple of years just to prove there’s still life in the old dog yet. Finishing a race at 11.00am and needing food is tricky as nowhere is open apart from Wagamama so we dined there for a 3rd successive year. The snow fall between Swansea and Newport meant deliveries hadn’t arrived and the menu was quite limited but we all ate well and continued our celebrations at Wetherspoons before our journey home.
Fame at last
As a postscript, I made headlines in the Gloucestershire Echo 😎😂
And finally, why The Last Time? Because this could be my last race.
The Surreal Adventures of George Bailey's Suitcase 