After the slightly disappointing performances at the BMAF Champs, I decided to knuckle down and prepare for the Decathlon in September, there was a fair bit of time to whittle my 400m time down from hours to minutes or at least to be faster than my daughter. The family rivalry is getting more intense as I gradually rust up and she gets inexorably faster, closing the gap to just over a second meaning I can hear her coming!
Training was altered to now include lots more weights, some techie stuff with the throws relating to me being completely un-hip or something, and the decision to actually do some hurdling before the event this year, and maybe some jumping of some sort. There was only three meetings available for competition (or so I thought) so, me and the bear hit the track with a vengeance, over the first couple of weeks I could often be seen "praying to Mecca" at the end of the back straight uttering strange mystical curses relating to tortuous liquids that are rumoured to flow in the legs of runners and are stored in fridges carried by bears. The 4x300m in 52 seconds session sounded easy at first, but I always knew 8x200m was going to leave an imprint below the waist. And so it was, not just imprints but dents I'd say.
The first meeting was the South Wales Masters League, so I made an effort and finished work at Debenhams in Taunton at half three and hit the M5, the battle took me across the old Severn Crossing due to an accident at passport control (AKA the Tool Booths) and added 20 minutes to my journey. I got home and slapped the poles onto the roof of the car and, equipped with one daughter and several pairs of spikes, we left for Brecon at half five, and made it as far as Cwmbran (4 miles) before meeting the next accident. So I bravely dived down the myriad of tiny country lanes that make their way around the area, but added distance and time that I could ill afford. The A40 from Abergavenny to Brecon is a favourite of mine on the motorbike, but in the 4x4 with poles we were doomed. First I met grandad in his Fiat Punto driving permanently in 2nd gear, shortly followed by a local farmer in his mud splattered tractor, then the local cycling club out for their evening constitutional followed abruptly by a couple of horse riders looking lost and finally, but totally inevitably, a learner.
Needless to say we arrived too late for the 400m (Daughter was gutted as that was the purpose of the trip). I barely made the vault, guessed my run up based on a new branch of geometry invented just for the day and away we went. Quite remarkably I won it with 2.91m - uninjured as well. The 200m races were next and, yes, my eldest was hell bent on beating me as was Derek Osborne after I'd done him in the vault. I had a plan though, and the plan worked, fast bend but not flat out and kick hard in the straight, ended with a seasons best of 27.8 but still drastically slow. Thankfully, Chloe didn't catch me and Brecon lost her result which would have been a PB according to her coach who clocked her at 29.6. I was not Mr. Popular. The journey home was trouble free, if not quiet.
Needless to say we arrived too late for the 400m (Daughter was gutted as that was the purpose of the trip). I barely made the vault, guessed my run up based on a new branch of geometry invented just for the day and away we went. Quite remarkably I won it with 2.91m - uninjured as well. The 200m races were next and, yes, my eldest was hell bent on beating me as was Derek Osborne after I'd done him in the vault. I had a plan though, and the plan worked, fast bend but not flat out and kick hard in the straight, ended with a seasons best of 27.8 but still drastically slow. Thankfully, Chloe didn't catch me and Brecon lost her result which would have been a PB according to her coach who clocked her at 29.6. I was not Mr. Popular. The journey home was trouble free, if not quiet.
A couple of weeks later, Newport held their "Jumps Fest", and, like an idiot, I entered all four events. It seemed logical at the time, honest. I needed practice for the Vault, Long Jump and especially High Jump for the Decathlon; and in the intervening time, I had been picked by a desperate sounding team manager to do the Triple Jump for East Wales in the Welsh Inter Regional Championships. Anyway, It was a good day, sort of, as usual, some ups and some downs, the vault was a definite up, 2.90m and really close to 3m, must shave my legs for the next one. Unbelievably I won the Senior Men's High Jump with 1.35m but then I was also last and got beat by some under 13 girls - as usual. The long jump was exhausting, six rounds of the usual hit and miss drama, the no jumps are getting smaller and I'm seriously considering cutting the toes off my spikes, but 4.60m was average. Then it all turned to S***. Nailed the second round in the triple with 9.23m, then in round three I felt a familiar pain in the jump phase from my left Achilles and had to scratch from there. Yep, Monday morning confirmed the return of tendonitis.
A week later and feeling a good deal better, I donned the rather gay purple vest of East Wales and found myself doing a little more than the afore mentioned Triple Jump. Yes, as much as I like representing my region, I find it difficult to believe I am East Wales' best Senior 100m sprinter, and I went out of my way to prove it with 13.51 into a typical Mumbles gale at Swansea, approximately 2 seconds off the lead. Intent on ignoring me, the team management said my next task was the 200m, and, being known for my stamina, I demonstrated the wisdom of that particular selection (28.08), not sure I could still see the winner to be honest. This just left the Discus and the Triple Jump, I can handle that I thought. Ah hah! Not when they are on simultaneously. Such fun!
Well I did get a season's best in the Senior Discus (21.69m) and the 100m was into a 2.1m/s head wind after all. The real disappointment was seeing the gap in the my main event, the vault, as I hobbled away with a fresh bout of Achilles watcha-mcallit.
A week later and free of the problem once more, I turned out for the Newport "Run Fest" to run the 100m. Feeling that there was far too much festing going on here (missed the throws fest!), I had one last shot at a decent time in a sensible race before the Decathlon. Luck was with me, Usain Bolt had pulled out and there was also a following wind, a rarity in South Wales. So as the wind gauge was broken (fell over in a gale), the times would be sort of legal, well by my argument anyway. So all I needed was a good start and a decent drive phase and that would be it, a season's best. Well, yes, I naused up the start, dozed off for a while, then drove out the blocks like I was going shoe shopping with the wife and just managed to hang on to 13.3, which was a Season's Best - just. Now if only I could walk.
Bring on the Decathlon! Please, just get it over with so I can curl up and die in this corner............
A week later and feeling a good deal better, I donned the rather gay purple vest of East Wales and found myself doing a little more than the afore mentioned Triple Jump. Yes, as much as I like representing my region, I find it difficult to believe I am East Wales' best Senior 100m sprinter, and I went out of my way to prove it with 13.51 into a typical Mumbles gale at Swansea, approximately 2 seconds off the lead. Intent on ignoring me, the team management said my next task was the 200m, and, being known for my stamina, I demonstrated the wisdom of that particular selection (28.08), not sure I could still see the winner to be honest. This just left the Discus and the Triple Jump, I can handle that I thought. Ah hah! Not when they are on simultaneously. Such fun!
Well I did get a season's best in the Senior Discus (21.69m) and the 100m was into a 2.1m/s head wind after all. The real disappointment was seeing the gap in the my main event, the vault, as I hobbled away with a fresh bout of Achilles watcha-mcallit.
A week later and free of the problem once more, I turned out for the Newport "Run Fest" to run the 100m. Feeling that there was far too much festing going on here (missed the throws fest!), I had one last shot at a decent time in a sensible race before the Decathlon. Luck was with me, Usain Bolt had pulled out and there was also a following wind, a rarity in South Wales. So as the wind gauge was broken (fell over in a gale), the times would be sort of legal, well by my argument anyway. So all I needed was a good start and a decent drive phase and that would be it, a season's best. Well, yes, I naused up the start, dozed off for a while, then drove out the blocks like I was going shoe shopping with the wife and just managed to hang on to 13.3, which was a Season's Best - just. Now if only I could walk.
Bring on the Decathlon! Please, just get it over with so I can curl up and die in this corner............
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