Running for 40

This is the 20th post - and my first mile stone in blogging; so a big thank you to everybody who's taken the time to read my ramblings - much appreciated.

  My 40th birthday is approaching rapidly, and I wanted to do something to mark the event. So, in a moment of madness I signed up for the Great Birmingham Run in October.

 Why not something different - like Machu Picchu by spacehopper?

  Well, it's been nearly 10 years since a younger and fitter me last ran a half marathon, and I want to see if the old dog can still do it.

 Why not go the whole hog and run a full 26 miles?

   Good question - I've ran the Newcastle Great North Run three times and each time I've  reached the last mile along the South Shield sea front, things were starting to hurt. Thighs were rubbed raw, knees protested, and the idea of running another 13 miles didn't appeal.

  I trained for the Great North Run with my friend Steve. We ran a weekly circuit of country lanes and villages on summer evenings. A fellow friend, Jason (my old brandy drinking companion), suggested an alternative route.

  'When you get to the village on the hill, don't turn left, go straight on. There's a nice little route - I've tried it, it'll only take you about ten minutes.'

  So we gave it a go. The fields were bathed in the evening sunshine, and we chatted about everything and nothing as we ran -  it was a pleasant route indeed.

  J R R Tolkien wrote 'The road goes ever on'; well this road went on and on - and then some. A ruler straight run, heading off into the sunset. Eventually we emerged (somewhat wearily) onto a main road, where we were about 8 miles from home. There was nothing for it but to trot back to blighty. I came home footsore with 'joggers nipple' and a craving for a large cheese sandwich.

The next time we saw Jason we mentioned his little detour.

   'I thought you said it would take ten minutes,' quizzed Steve

   'Well it did - driving in the car.'

    Hmmmm - not quite the same thing, but never mind.

What the Dickens...

Tuesday was the bicentenary of the birth of Charles Dickens, and I must confess that I haven't read any of his books.

  That's not entirely true - I've read a Christmas Carol and a couple of his other ghost stories, but the rest of his great works, Oliver Twist, David Copperfield etc, remain unopened.

  I did tentatively start 'Great Expectations', but I never ventured pass Miss Havisham and her mouldy wedding breakfast. One thing I did enjoy though, was the BBC adaption of Bleak House.

  Bleak House has a complex plot (which I won't do justice trying to explain in this Blog) which centres around the heroine, Esther Summerson (played by Anna Maxwell-Martin) and her search for her parents' identity.

  Costume dramas (particularly the Austin variety) can sometimes have a 'fluffy' feel to them, but this was very different. A dark brooding story set against the hopeless background of the London chancery courts - where families are broken by endless legal quarrels. 

  The adaption featured an all star cast, with Charles Dance, as sinister lawyer Tulkinghorn, and Gillian Anderson (in a very 'un-Scully' role) as tragic Lady Deadlock.

  So what am I waiting for? Grab a copy, get reading, and reacquaint myself with characters such as 'Conversation' Kenge, Harold Skimpole and the sleuthing Inspector Bucket.