Olympic fever and a legacy for us all

We’re known for our reserve.

Our ‘calm in the face of a challenge’ heritage.

Our still upper lip.

Yeah, right.

That was the scene in the BBC commentary box as Mo Farah ran a perfect race in the 10,000 metres last night. Hot on the heels of Jessica Ennis and Greg Rutherford’s gold success stories.

Can’t say the scene in my front room was much different to that commentary box. That sofa’s on its last legs now, that’s for sure.

We’re third in the medals people! Amazing.

And when I went out for my run this morning, my fellow runners? Just a little more smiley, a couple more good mornings and a nod of acknowledgement that we’re in the same gang. If part of the Olympic legacy is pride and joy in running that is now bad thing, but Government investment in supporting sport – for everyone – is what’s important.

We talk about nurturing the athletes of the future, but what about giving a thought to the over 60s and activities for them as well. We’re a society made up of people of all ages, why should we not invest in the people who have given us their entire working lives?


Back and running… after a fashion

So, I’m back from Palma, tan miraculously still in tact and keen to get back out there running.

I’ve also put on 5lbs. How did that happen? Hmmm… tapas, cerveza, lolling about on a roof-top terrace reading, turning over and then reading… you get the picture.

But at 8am this morning I was out and jogging, if not running, with the plan to do an hour’s gentle run. Just to break myself back in.

Slightly over ambitious, it seems. It felt like I was dragging a sack of potatoes behind me. Or 5lbs of potatoes strapped to my middle, if I’m being slightly less dramatic.

From the first ten minutes I could feel muscles complaining, by 30 minutes I was wheezing and puffing as well. By 35 minutes I’d relented and was  run-walking my way home.

Not exactly encouraging and when Mr M asked how my run had gone I think the word ‘murder’ may have been mentioned. Like I say; I’m prone to dramatising.

I’ve had a bit of a scout round the internet to see if I can find anything about post-holiday running. I found a few blogs, like this one, which suggests I’m not alone. And realistically I’ve hardly been eating the diet of an athlete.

“I don’t suppose Jessica Ennis trains on a diet of salty snacks and beer,” I pondered as the sweat ran in rivulets from my forehead.

So, I probably got the run I asked for. You reap what you sow and all that. So shredded wheat for breakfast, homemade vegetable soup for lunch and chicken stir fry for tea.

Onwards, upwards and ever onwards to picking up speed.