The Wrong Sort Of Stimulant

We have some fresh snow overnight and L goes out for a run in it. I’m well jealous. I haven’t got time to do so, having already enjoyed too much duvet time and then I having to take the dogs out for a ball session. This is enjoyable but very traumatic as the balls keep disappearing into the snow.



Then I get the bus over to Derby for the match, which is one of the few fixtures to have survived the weather. The postponements are also making it impossible to do the Fantasy League. We were joking last week about whether we could raise enough players to resurrect our own five-a-side team, well today I’m struggling to raise five-a-side team of real players for the Fantasy League and I‘m supposed to be picking fifteen. The games have been going down like flies over the last 24 hours. Trying to pick a team is like playing Russian roulette with the fixture list.

As I walk down to the stadium I at least discover the answer to one pressing question. That being why the council has already ran out of grit. The reason is because someone has layered it on the pavements around Pride Park about an inch thick, which is a lot of trouble to go to, just to get the game on. So if they need any, all they need to do is simply turn up with a lorry and a spade. Then they can scrape the excess off Pride Park and keep the rest of the city going for a few more days.

Although this may answer one question, it also poses another. Just why have they let the employees of all the companies on Pride Park slither around on icy pavements for the last couple of weeks and only get the grit out now because there’s a football game on?

It’s also bloody cold as I await the arrival of my father, who will hopefully have a flask of hot coffee with him. He has, but as my mother has dipped out of going to the game today, he’s packed a smaller flask. Damn, not really enough to get me through the whole game. At least he’s brought the whiskey to go in it.

As it happens coffee is not the right sort of stimulant required to get one through the game. Valium would have been more appropriate. Yet another apparently clueless team selection is followed by another clueless performance. Again no width and therefore no goals, save a deflected effort when already 2-0 down. It finishes 4-1.

After the match I meet L in Derby and we go for something to eat in the Royal Standard. Then we move across to the Silk Mill, which is disappointing because they haven’t changed their beers from last week, so we consider a move to the Flowerpot. Then a comfy chair by the real fire comes free and so naturally, we make do and stay the rest of the night.

One of our Christmas presents is playing havoc with my head, well my hangover. The bottle of Baileys seemed a pleasant and inoffensive thing for a nightcap but I’m not sure it’s been a wise choice at all. It’s not even the sort of thing I’d usually drink. Oh well, it’s nearly all gone now.

Positively Terrifying

I got the bus in today and develop a technique for gliding over the icy surface as I walk at each end of my journey. Apparently it was the coldest night of the winter so far with temperatures well down in the minus figures. I get into work really early as there seems to be very little traffic on the roads. Think all the usual suspects must still be skiving.

A colleague rides in on his MTB. I’d like to say he was a smug b****** after doing so but he actually looked a bit frazzled by the whole experience.

L recommends the video for Big Pink’s Dominoes. Saying I'd love the girl drummer's long boots and thighs. I will check it out. Now. A bit disappointing to be honest but probably mainly because the drum kit is in the way.

I get home from work and everyone is on their way out. This isn’t a problem as it allows L and me to get up to whatever we like. Well, whatever the dogs will allow us to get up to.

Later on we head down the local, which is kind of a mistake as I’d forgotten that Forest were live on TV tonight, playing away at West Bromwich. We hide in a corner and try to keep ourselves to ourselves but I can’t help watching some of the game. I have to say that Forest looked positively terrifying as they surged into a 3-0 lead by midway through the second half. The game finishes 3-1 and they hop over West Bromwich into second in the table. I’m afraid to say they look pretty awesome and unhappily we have to play them in a few weeks time.

The Usual Run Around

Saw this advert reproduced on the Red Bikes blog. I like it.



Now if only I could get out on the bike. Love the weather, but hate the lack of training opportunities. If I had a MTB I’d probably risk coming to work on it but I’m not getting the road bike, particularly not with all that salt on the roads.

The Carriageworks Theatre in Leeds has demonstrated the Dunkirk spirit and vowed that the show must go on, although only nine people showed up for Wednesday night’s performance of the very appropriate ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’. Of course we’ve no idea if that’s a normal sized audience for them or not but by braving the weather and putting the show on regardless they’ve gained some excellent publicity. Smart move.

Seems Nottingham City Council has reneged on its promises as regards the Victoria Leisure Centre. Originally they had planned to keep it open until the new centre was ready in 2011 but now apparently they now intend to close the centre at the end of March this year. Yet there are no approved plans yet for the redevelopment and no planning permission in place. Seems it’s all to do with the council running out of cash after playing Icelandic bank roulette with our money and losing.

There is public meeting next Wednesday January 13th at 6pm at the Training Suite, Victoria Leisure Centre to discuss this latest development.



Finally some exercise and I play squash tonight. It’s a good workout as I’m given the usual run around, which is exactly what my legs need.

Better Late Than Never

The snow finally reaches Derby. Better late than never I suppose but there’s still not very much of it. There is just enough though to enable the first snowman of the year to appear outside work.



Due to the carnage being caused by the weather up here, not, I get a text at 9.30 to say that training tonight has been cancelled. As I’ve said, we’ve still not had very much of the white stuff compared with what the rest of the country has had and I had even got to work quicker than normal this morning because there was less traffic on the roads. Obviously a lot of people had either believed the hype and stayed at home or just simply took the opportunity for a skive and a day’s sledging. So the cancellation of training is just a little premature, particularly as the snow is due to stop around mid-morning.

Then an hour later I get another text to say that it’s all back on, although with a reduced session. I think perhaps they’ve had a lot of responses along the lines of ‘Snow? What snow?’. Even Nottingham City Transport appears to be running almost a full service and the kid’s old secondary school is open, when it’s usually one of the first to throw in the towel. Unless of course all those complaints I wrote last year have had an effect.

L keeps sending me events that clash with the Cheshire Cat cycle ride. She claims this is accidental and the Cheshire Cat, which she’s already entered in, had simply slipped her mind. Which it keeps doing.... I’m sure it is accidental but if I didn't know her better I'd think she was trying to get out of that particular event. Won’t happen though. I’ll keep reminding her and she knows she can rely on me to get her to the start line.

MD is simply excellent at training. For once he seemed to understand what he was supposed to be doing and does it well. It’s a tad cold though, if L was here she’d make him wear a coat. By the time I get the old man out of the car for his training I’m starting to lose the feeling in my feet. They feel a bit like they did when I dipped them in the stream at the Huncote Hash.

Thankfully L has a welcoming and warming curry ready for me when I finally get home.

The Deep And Crisp And Even

As I’ve already mentioned, with the freeze predicted to last for some time, chances of biking this week at all are remote. However, as overnight we gained a nice inch of the deep and crisp and even stuff. Well it’s not exactly deep but I figure this morning would be a good time to attempt a run. It got to be better than running on the dreadmill, which is what I’ll be forced to do otherwise.

Snow can be quite good to run in when it is fresh and still quite grippy. This does appear to be the case as I jog up to catch the bus from the QMC. Unfortunately once I alight from the bus in Borrowash I realise that yet again Derby seems to have missed out on the white stuff. So I’m faced with a slither along icy paths instead. Thankfully the route down by the river allows for plenty of running on the grass which is good because running on the path is more than a touch dicey. Despite this I see almost as many bikes as usual, probably 30 or more, and only about half with sensible tyres. The rest of them on the sort of unsuitable mount that I usually ride. Despite this I don’t see any one fall off.

The next problem I face is due to latest bout of concreting over of the countryside that’s going on down there. They’re shut the river path again and divert me on to the main road, where more slithering ensues. I eventually skate into work, only six minutes slower than usual, which isn’t bad considering the ice and the detour that must have added half a mile.

L reports that not only has Daughter taken a tumble on the ice, mind she was probably Facebooking at the time rather than looking where she was going, but Doggo has taken a slide too. Both are apparently fine.

After work, I opt out of playing roulette with the ice pavements by running home and take the easy option of the Red Arrow instead.

I get home to find that Daughter has gone and had all her hair cut off, well not quite but it’s pretty short. Question is what she going to spend two hours a day doing now she has so little hair to style? No need for hairdryers, hair spray and the like.

The girls head off to see the Derby Panto or are they just going to see Neil Morrissey.



Either way I decline their offer to join them. Pantomime has never really been my sort of thing but I’m sure they’ll have a good time. Oh no they won’t, oh yes they will. Apparently the pantomime is packed out but there’s not a man in sight. Funny that.

In Case Of Emergency

I had hoped to cycle today and would have done, had it not been so wintry. L had planned to do her Cheshire Cat training around Holme Pierrepont and that’s not happening either. Looking at the forecast, the weather isn’t going to make cycling very feasible for a while.

I console myself by supplementing my lunch with assorted goodies from L’s Christmas presents. This is totally legit by the way. She asked me to dispose of all the edible gifts she received and I didn’t like to refuse. Hence the reason they are now all in my drawer at work. Save for one small box, which I’ve hidden in the bedroom, in case of emergency.

In the evening, MD starts his new class, with cage. L is worried he might be cold in his cage and suggests an extra blanket. She’s missing the point. His cage is not supposed to be comfy as he’s not supposed to spend much time in it. He’ll only end up in it if he’s a bad boy and I’m sure he’s not going to be.

In fact, MD does very well. He only gets caged a few times for barking and each time he was provoked by another dog being the first to bark. That is until later, when we do some start line sprints which means there are dogs racing across the arena. He can’t resist having something to say about that and becomes a more permanent inmate.

Relaxing later in bed, I see something large and black crawling up the duvet, it’s almost as large as a pint sized collie but it’s not MD, who is asleep across the bottom of the bed. This creature’s got eight legs and, in fact, climbs over MD as it moves towards me. From its lofty position on MD’s back I’m sure it winks at me before continuing its journey upwards, along L’s thigh. At which point I warn L that we (the four of us) are not alone in the bedroom, we have an unwanted visitor. I can immediately tell from the expression on her face that she thinks that I best put a stop to its crusade forthwith. So I chivalrously but regretfully slay the beast. L seems grateful, very grateful. So I don’t get to read any of my books again tonight.

Trench Foot

This morning we defrost the car and drive down the M1 to Huncote in Leicestershire for a spot of cross country, something by the name of the Huncote Hash. The race is on because unlike the Caythorpe run last week it’s not on road so won’t be as slippery. That’s the theory anyway.

Cross country is not my thing at all. I prefer any terrain that I run on to be smooth and tarmac if at all possible, kind of road like, certainly not muddy. Luckily, the fact it’s so damn cold should render the mud meaningless.

I have my River Trent hardened shoes on, the ones I used for Survival of the Fittest and they still have bits of genuine Trent algae hanging off them. They will feel at home in this race, as there’s a stream that we are required to run down. L considers wellies but in the end pulls her orienteering shoes out of what they thought was their peaceful retirement.

As we stash the dogs in the car and head down to the start, they immediately start a duet of howling, totally embarrassing but we can’t give into such blackmail. We ignore them, fully expecting someone to report us to the RSPCA.

We line up for the start amongst a group of cowboys and Indians; fancy dress seems to be the order of the day. Some of the girls are in saris; they have perhaps come as the wrong type of Indians. There’s even a gorilla lurking somewhere near the back of the pack.

I start well but then concede a lot of places. I’m not pushing myself too hard on such a perilous course. I have bigger fish to fry coming up and this event is basically just an excuse to get some miles in. How many miles, I’m not sure, as they are very vague about the length of the course, 6 miles, 6.5, maybe more. I also don’t have the correct footwear on and some of the hills they have us on are quite steep. I almost slide off a few of them. A camber up one ice covered hill, the surface seemingly polished by the runners ahead, and go sliding most of the way back down again. Despite struggling to stand up at times, I still think I’m doing quite well until a gun toting cowboy comes running past me.



Rumour has it that the course offers spectacular views of the surrounding villages and countryside but unfortunately I can’t look up to see because I’m too worried about where I’m putting my feet.

Towards the end, some parts of the course have thawed out a bit and I finally get some traction, managing to run at something approaching normal race pace but then just as I’m getting in to it, we come to the ‘highlight’ of the run. The wade through the stream. Thankfully the earlier runners seem to have broken the ice on the surface. The water though is still feet numbingly cold. My first thoughts are that thankfully it’s only a short section of water. Then once I’m up to mid calf in the freezing water, I think what a long stint it is. As I emerge out the other side, I have to look down to check that my feet as still attached to my ankles as I can now no longer feel them. It takes a good few minutes to warm them back up again and then thankfully it’s the finish.



My time was over 54 minutes for however far it was. They describe it as a fun event, a chance to fun and blow away the Christmas and New Year excesses. Doesn’t stop them disqualifying the first two runners home, who were minutes ahead of the rest of the field and it’s suspected that they found a short cut somewhere.

I fetch the dogs from the car and wait for L to come in. She duly does, managing to hold off a late surge from the gorilla.



Afterwards we retire to Scruffys, to nurse our trench foot and to try out their Sunday lunches. They are all out of beef, so their roast consists of grilled best steak, which is a rather nice variation. The soup starter is also rather tasty and filling, particularly when I remind L of her resolution to cut down on her bread consumption, which means I get double. I’m always thinking of her wellbeing.

(Photos Huncote Harriers AC)