Author: Buck

I was listening to a classic rock radio station the other day, they were playing Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days (I’m assuming that’s the title) and it set me to musing. The premise of the song is he meets some high school chums, one of whom was an ace school sportsman, the other was a high school hottie who’s grown older and had kids etc. Both of them just keep banging on about their glory days. It struck me that that’s bollocks. Here am I, just approaching my prime *coughs* and racing towards 50 (OK, I’m 47, but I’m already rounding up, mentally) and I am still striving to achieve my next goal. I’ve done more I can be proud of in my 40’s than ever. I’ve been of the beer, fags and such for 6 years, got my head around straightness and reinvented myself and my goals. My first goal was to be able to run 1½ miles for the TA thing, so I ran 1.9 miles (by accident) first attempt. Then I thought a half marathon would be a monster achievement, did that 6 months later. Then Iron distance triathlon 9 months later, with a marathon along the way for training. After doing that twice I thought I’d try Ultra running, I did two long runs then ‘ran’ a 50 mile race. Now I’m going for a sub 3 hour marathon, the benchmark for marathon runners, then pushing on to win a marathon (admittedly that’s pretty damn unlikely). Also in my 40’s I passed my car test then decided to get a job (out of manual graft) as a lorry driver. That was an ordeal but I did it and have just landed the job I’ve been after for a while. In short, shove it up your arse, Mr Springsteen, you ain’t the boss o’ me! I flatter myself that I did some monumentally reckless, stupid and ill-informed stuff in the past, all of which has it’s own merit, but I’m damned if I’m going to stop just because I’m old enough to know better. And as for the assumption that a woman’s only worth is in being young and pretty.. Bah. I’m not even going to joke about that. Again it sounds like I’m blowing my own trumpet, but it’s kind of hard to point out the achievements of which you are proud without mentioning the achievements.  One of my Twitter chums changed her handle to include her Doctorate. @DrLangtry_Girl.  In her bio she put “Yeah I levelled up. If you don’t like it get a PhD.” Or words to that effect. She said it better, obviously. That’s my thinking. I’ve done some things I consider achievements, but so could anyone else. Anyway, it’s like Virgil said “here we make a virtue of necessity”. I’ve done these things because I’m straight and you have to do *something* to fill the joyless infinity of hours before the grave.   Not that I have that many free hours to fill […]

I’ve finally taken the plunge. I don’t know if you remember I was looking at driving for Hermes 2 years ago. I went for the interview but was too nervous on the assessment. At the time I really wanted the job; straight trunking, no messing with the load, there and back, job’s a good ‘un. It was £9.75 ish then time and a third after 8 hours. Supposed to be the easiest driving job going. Anyway, after the last time Ceva got rid of me (a few weeks ago) I kept my eyes open for Hermes jobs. A different agency to mine advertised the job so I applied. Ceva found me a different job and I’ve been doing 4 days a week doing crappy local deliveries of unstable loads of newspapers and magazines. Typically the new agency announced that Hermes were having an induction on one of my working days. I was considering blagging the agency, so I could check out Hermes but then I realised I’d have to use my digicard in any driving assessment so Ceva would know what I’d been doing. Bugger. Called the agency and told them I wouldn’t be available. You’ll recall I am a ‘self-employed sub-contractor’ when it suits, ie, I am my own boss in theory, so it’s up to me when I want to work. Ha! Got loads of attitude. First off “Why can’t you work tomorrow?” (None of your damn business, see ‘self-employed’ dickhead!) Quick backtrack when I said I was trying for another job. Then he rang his boss, who called me. “I thought you were happy at Ceva? They’ve tried really hard to find you work, etc” The job needed doing, I was just someone they could trust to do it. I’ve been there nearly two years and I’m still a de facto agency worker, I’ve been binned three or four times. The deal is solely in their favour. “Who are you working for? Is it through another agency? They are just taking you on for xmas, you’ll be binned in new year. How long is the induction? Why are you not getting paid for it?” I said that I did that 8+ hours induction at Iceland on the understanding I would get paid for it, not got a penny. *bluster, bluster* “Yes you did, errr, I’ll check it out and get back to you tomorrow.” I didn’t. He hasn’t.   So that was all fun and games before I’d even been to the induction. I turned up at 11.30 as per agency instructions, sat around for a bit, then the HR woman (Paula) showed up. I said I was early. She agreed. “The induction’s not until 14.30. Come back later. Btw, can you drive tonight?” Errrr, ok. Back home, try again later. Second time I went and did the induction. They’ve changed the criteria and the process. It used to be ‘driving license, some experience’ and a driving assessment.  Now it’s two years driving experience and being buddied […]

This is another running related blog. Sorry. My life seems to go in obsessive spurts in one direction, followed by disinterest and active avoidance. This is one of the reasons I enter races, so I have to train. I tried to stick to that training plan, starting last week. It said start off with a 6 mile ‘easy’ run. I thought if I was doing a slow one I might as well up the incline on the tready. Such a mistake. Runner’s World said to train at 1% incline to simulate proper running, but then I went for a 10 mile road run (at 7.30 m/m pace) and my pulse was 153, the same as 6.30 m/m on the tready. That can’t be right. So, slow run, put it at 2%. You wouldn’t think it would make any difference, 1%. It does. It really does. My ankles and shins were really sore and my muscles had set the next day. That kind of buggered me up for the week. That was on Monday, but I determined to go through with my plan to join a running club, meeting on Tuesday. Whadda ya know? I braced myself (I was nervous about going, after all) girded my loins and drove to Birchwood. I was there, 3 other confused runners were there, the club was not. The others seemed to think the club had met up somewhere else. Ace. I determined to go to the next session then, 1845 on Thursday. Work went tits up and I didn’t get home until 1900. The gods mock me. Again. No worries, the hold weekend meets. Saturday I was working, so I determined to do the Sunday run. I looked on the website on Saturday night, Sunday runs: times and locations to be confirmed at Thursday session. *death from headdesk* So I’ve still not joined. Or done a run with them.   After a few days rest I determined to batter my 3 mile PB yesterday. I did that 6.15 m/m with energy to spare. Yesterday was going to be the day. 6 m/m. A landmark. A line in the sand. This far and only further. I crashed and burned after 5 minutes. Balls. My pulse was 163, my breathing wouldn’t settle into a rhythm and my mental toughness wasn’t there. I was looking at the clock ‘I’ve only done 4 minutes, I can’t do another 14 like this. I’ve got to stop’. Once you weaken and start thinking like that you’ve had it. You have to embrace the pain, grit your teeth and soldier on. I was that disgusted with myself I changed into my outdoors running kit, complete with my super-duper gps watch, and went for a 20 mile run. It is different outside. Cold, which is good. With mile markers, so you are running to the next landmark, not for the next 2 hours. I know the mile markers for the first 5 miles, ie for my 10 mile run, after that it’s […]

I had set the bar for my best effort for 3 miles. It was a 6.30 m/m. It near killed me, but that was it, best effort. I then upped the pace to 6.20 and failed badly on two attempts on tired legs. As I said in my last blog I was going to rest for a day or two then try again. On Friday I warmed up, rested for a minute and gave myself a stern talking to. “Do. Or do not. There is not try. And there is no ‘do not’. Do it, fatlad.” I set the pace at 6.15 and went for it. I battered it! I kept the pace up for 5k (3.1 miles) to see what my best speed was for the distance, then dropped the speed (still sub 7!) for 2 miles to get my breath back, then did the last mile of 10k at 6.30! Check me out! Catching my breath at sub 7! Straight after setting new PB. And finishing off with my previous PB! The thing is, it wasn’t that bad. I just stared ahead, concentrated on my breathing, got my pulse down to 150 ish, and carried on. As demonstrated by the extra .1 of a mile. Usually I’m playing mind tricks for the last 5 minutes, telling myself ‘after this is only a half mile, after the next minute it’s only a minute, 10 seconds, 9, …1,  STOP!’  This time I reckon I could have done another mile at that pace. So, so chuffed. After those failures earlier in the week I was worrying I might not be able to improve. I’d started to think that I’d hit my physical barrier. Which would have been doubly embarrassing as I’d not previously considered the possibility that I might have one, and I’ve told everyone my plans based on the assumption that graft = results. It would have been a monster portion of humble pie to choke down if I couldn’t have improved at all. Anyway, that is not a concern now. Mission Improbable is *ON*!   After such a glorious day yesterday, I went to hop on a trailer at work today and pulled my groin. D’oh! I tried to do some fast miles when I got in, but my legs weren’t having it. My shins were hurting and my groin was sore. My funky new watch arrived today. It is all-singing and all-dancing. I’m going to put it through it’s paces tomorrow. Probably slowly if my legs aren’t better.   I had a moment of epiphany earlier this week; I’m on mornings at the moment, I can join a running club! That is why I was testing my 5 and 10k times. The Spectrum Striders (Birchwood running club) train in three groups. The fast group is defined as 5k in 16-22 minutes, 10k in 33-44 m and a half marathon as 1.09- 1.34. I did 5k in 19.27 and 10k in 40.22. I’ve not tried a half marathon at […]

Just a brief blog before bed. 3 days off (glorious, it’s felt like a holiday, I don’t want to go back to work tomorrow) and I’ve found my mojo again. On Sunday I did some running on the treadmill, I forget what. Monday I set out to up the bar on my 3 mile best time. I managed 2½ miles at 6.20 m/m then cracked like an egg. To make up for it I went out and did a cold 10 mile run. My legs didn’t want to play, my breathing was tits, I thought I was going to have to turn back in the first mile. It got better in the second mile and then I found my rhythm. A shit slow rhythm, but a maintainable one. At the 5 mile point I was a minute off my default pace of 8 m/m so I girded my loins and upped the pace on the way back. One mile was 8.05, but I still managed to get back dead on 1 hour 20, ie 8m/m pace. I’ll take that. Today I tried again on the tready, but broke after 1½ miles. I did a few more minutes at different speeds then reset the machine to 7½ m/m and went for 10 miles. This is different to outdoor running. On the one hand you don’t have to worry about your pace dropping off, but on the other you aren’t running to the next mile marker, you just have an hour and fifteen minutes to endure. At the hour point I thought I’d better check what exactly ten miles is in French (stupid km/ h machine) and to my horror found it was 16.09 k’s. I was only at 11 something. I ramped up the speed to a sub 7 m/m pace and went for it. It nearly killed me but I battered the next mile and a half before realising I’d set it too fast and was going to easily make it. I slowed it down to just under 7 m/m for the last half mile. I finished 16.01 (slight confusion over where the ‘1’ was in my mind, so 80 meters short) in 1.12:54 I’ve just battered my brain working out that the .08 of a K is 80 meters, and at 7m/m pace that would take 20 seconds, so call it 1.13:14. My target, on tired legs, was to do 30 seconds per mile faster than yesterday, which would have been 1.15, so I battered that and did a heroic and apparently unnecessary, catch up on the last two miles. I’m happy with that.   I’ll give it two days to rest my legs a bit and then I’m going to raise the bar on the 3 mile pace. I’ve done 6½ m/m, this time I’m aiming for 6:15. Then it’s only 15 seconds per mile off starting that bloody evil training plan.   I’ve found the ideal race for getting me started on Mission Improbable. The Manchester marathon, […]