On The Run - January 2013 by Bedford Harriers Magazine -

On the Run

Awards Edition

January 2013

Magazine Editor: Adam Hills Contributors: Ι Elise Allen Ι Jutta Crane Ι Steve Crane Ι Alastair Fadden Ι Gill Fullen Ι Angie Kay Ι Richard Piron Ι Graham Short Ι Bob Wells Ι

Editor's Column

CONTENTS Editor's Column

Chair’s chatter

Success and failure

4-5

The Making of a Games Maker

6-7

My Journey To L.....

Looking back on 2012

Still Some Nice People in the World

From 2005 as a Complete Beginner

Testing Einstein’s Theory

Life On The Front Row Of The Griddle

Cover Photo By Ian Sturdgess Olympic London Marthon Photographers Back Cover Photo By Alastair Fadden Above photo by Billy Fadden from outside the Copperbox at the Olympic Park

Well, here we are again… after the memorable year of 2012. We have indeed witnessed the greatest London Summer Olympics and Paralympics Games after all the years of preparation and thought planning. It was arguably not obvious who would light up the flame after all the speculation that mounted. Now the flame has safely gone out after the Games we can now look forward to its legacy and hope it will bring positive benefits to our country. It felt great to see the many torch bearers that passed through our very streets and the hundreds of spectators who turned out to watch on a cool rainy Sunday morning in July. It felt pleasing for our country to finish third with 65 medals, only behind the populated China and the massive United States of America. The edited version of Chariots of Fire theme during each medal ceremony sounded enjoyable to listen to. It was nice to hear of the many Bedford Harriers who were very successful in gaining event tickets to watch the Games live, the dedicated Games Maker volunteers who gave up their time and everyone who were inspired by the GB Team achievements. There were numerous achievements displayed within the Bedford Harriers during the year 2012 as can be seen on the Club’s website and within the Awards Edition of the On The Run – so take a good read. I shall be stepping down from the Committee this year so if anyone else wishes to take over the magazine editor role then that should be fine. Good luck to all with your sporting goals and aspirations in the year 2013 and hope anyone who may be superstitious about the number 13 will continue to see the positive benefits from belonging to and training with the Bedford Harriers.

Adam Hills Editor

Chair’s Chatter

Welcome to the January 2013 Awards Edition of the Bedford Harriers ‘On-The-Run’

A belated Happy New Year to all members, their families and friends of the Harriers. 2012 was another great year for Bedford Harriers in many, many respects. There were numerous athletic achievements including 17 new Club Best Times. Harriers members continue to compete on a regular basis and many members will have achieved considerable personal success over the last 12 months as will be demonstrated in the awards ceremony. The Club maintains a buoyant membership level and a robust financial position. The membership continues to enjoy the benefit of a full range of coaching ability groups, the 3 Counties Cross Country league, the Friday evening track and circuit sessions and the weekend swimming programme. The Harriers promoted races; the Oakley 20, the Doug Anderson 5K, the Bedford Harriers 10K and the Harriers Half Marathon, all continue to be well attended and generate encouraging comments from the participants. The fledgling Spring into Summer duathlon was staged for the first time in 2012 and whilst the number of participants was comparatively low they were nevertheless effervescent in their compliments about the event. It’s certain that every individual will recollect several high points of 2012. One of those must surely be seeing our very own Iva Barr promenading with the Olympic Torch through Bedford on 8th July 2012. Much has been written and spoken about the sporting events over the past 12 months; all put much more eloquently than that to which my humble prose could aspire. What did become apparent as one followed the media reports throughout the summer was the frequency with which the word volunteer or more accurately the words, Games Makers were used. The media addressed the topic as though volunteering was a new concept initiated by LOCOG (London Organising Committee of the Olympic and Paralympic Games) however, we all know differently. Bedford Harriers members (and their families and friends too) have been volunteering for years; it’s true to say that without volunteers there would be no Club. Bedford Harriers is extremely fortunate to have a membership that has the volunteering ethic, not just now and again but repeatedly, week on week, month on month, year on year. More often than not the contribution that our volunteers make appears to pass unnoticed and unrecognised. Many of our members give up considerable amounts of their time to forward the interests of the Club and its members, whilst still finding the time to train and compete. To all Harriers volunteers, (actually it’s most of the membership), your contribution is noticed and is recognised, although you may not realise it, every single volunteer makes this running club one of the most successful in the country. Best wishes for 2013

Steve Crane

PS Just to prove all is not sweetness and harmony pictured above is Richard Pooley and yours truly wrestling over rubbish bins, looks like he’s already had my braces away!

PPS Harmony restored, all standing to attention.

Success and failure, 2012 a year to remember 2012 will be remembered for so many fantastic sporting moments, with the Olympics showing the fantastic heights of success, but also the devastating emotions of not achieving goals. We all felt inspired by our heroes’ achievements, especially Jess, Greg and Mo on that magical night, but the real test of character is surely for those who failed to medal to pick themselves up and carry on. This has been a reflection of my year, albeit on a far less significant scale. The year started well for me : I decided early in the year that duathlon was a logical step for me, with swimming as my weakest discipline and running my strongest, but when I entered two qualifiers I was still rather taken aback to win my age category in both. I decided they were more difficult than triathlon in that the first 10k run is harder on the legs than any swim and so putting power into the 40k bike is tough. To top that the final 5k run on seriously tired legs is a killer, but with those results in the bag my ticket to the World Championships in Nancy, France was booked. However, my main target for the year was Ironman UK in Bolton, not an altogether glamorous venue, and I made the mistake of seriously misjudging the difficulty of the course. The bike was unrelentingly hilly, made worse by increasingly strong winds during the day, but it was on the run that the hill I’d missed on my course recce really hit hard and by the third lap most were walking it. Having trained in extremes of rain and wind all Spring, I was looking forward to a wet, cold and windy race, so when the day dawned bright and clear and became one of the hottest days of the year so far, I really suffered from heat and dehydration. It was a small foretaste of what was to come later in the year. Not happy with my performance, but still managing to win my age category, I had won the golden ticket, the Kona qualification. Ticket to Hawaii, booked. It was great to travel out to France with Richard Piron, who had also qualified for the World Championship Duathon. What with also meeting Harriers Julie Tapley and Pete Buckingham, and BRCC’s Phil Holland and Jason Moore out there, it was always going to be a wellsupported race. The parade of Nations set the tone for the GB team spirit and following the Union Jack into the beautiful and imposing main square of Nancy made me proud to be a part of the team. The pasta party was well organised and the food actually really tasty, as we maybe should have expected in France. The run course was loops off road through a local park, followed by a technical urban bike course with little advantage to be gained from a tt bike, as the hilly, twisting and stop-start nature of the course kept riding skill to the fore rather than pure power. On race day the ladies waves were set off first and I was worried about the fairly narrow course considering that our wave was 90 ladies. I had briefly checked out the competition and decided that two Germans and an American were going to take the medals, so if I could keep them in sight I might not be too far behind. I positioned myself just behind these ladies at the start and ran off on their heels hoping for the best. Naturally impatient, I quickly found their pace too slow for my liking, so switched my attention to two strong GB ladies, with whom I happily ran round the first lap. I was somewhat amazed to find them both gradually dropping off the pace and as I overtook them both, it was pretty unbelievable to find myself running into transition in second place. I fully expected to be fairly swiftly caught and overtaken on the bike, so I was unsurprised when on the third lap, despite some pretty hard pushing on my part, I was overtaken by another American. All I could do was keep pedaling as fast as possible, pray for no punctures and get to transition not too far behind. When racing that hard I suddenly discovered how difficult it is to count to five, so I turned into transition unsure of whether I should be jumping off the bike or setting off on another lap. I was not the only one, however and luckily I had counted correctly, unlike several other competitors. Into transition in third place and I decided that if I could hold then bronze was a good result. I gave the run all I had left, which still felt relatively comfortable and I was making ground on the ladies in front of me, but 5k is a short distance and I ran in still in third place, but more than happy with that position. Amidst hugs, photos and congratulations

By Gill Fullen

over the finish line I happened to glance down at the two Americans’ legs and was astounded to see that they were both W35s, which meant I had won my section. Gold. World champion. Astounded and thrilled; definite high; success. I have to mention Gary Moore here, as he was the best supporter ever, with the right information and encouragement all the way round the course, thank you so much. It was great staying to watch the men race, cheering Richard on and supporting Jason, Phil, Pete and NED (ie.anyone from Holland) made a superb weekend of racing. Hawaii of course was a completely different proposition. The journey took 26 hours door to door and mum and I were beyond shattered when we arrived. The week that followed I spent being awestruck by the amount of incredibly fit athletes running, swimming and cycling around the town and depressed by the amount of tt bikes these tanned superbodies were riding. The course itself didn’t look too imposing, it was rolling, but very straightforward and the complete opposite of France. It was definitely hot, but tended to cloud over towards lunchtime, making great racing conditions. The wind didn’t seem too bad either, I was feeling a little more confident! My trial swim on the course terrified me … it seemed to go on forever, I was very seasick and emerged after 1hr40 with sunburn all over my back and sores from my swimsuit rubbing. Heartily discouraged, I bought a speedsuit , ate heaps of ginger and swam every day to try to acclimatise to the salt water. I decided to try tt bikes the day before the race – bad move! Loved the tt bikes and the way they rode and was majorly depressed to go back to my road bike, which I usually love. Running seemed my only ace card, but with increasingly painful plantar fasciitis (tendonitis in both my feet) having plagued me for some months I was unsure even of this. On the whole I managed to psyche myself out of the race even before I arrived at the start line. I realise this now, but at the time still felt reasonably positive. Racking was brilliantly organised and it did feel great to be actually taking part in such a superb event. The pre-race banquet had recapped on the history of Ironman and the Hawaii world championships, so we were aware that we were part of a famous tradition which included many of the best athletes in the world. On race day I found myself in the queue to enter the water with my German friend, who I’d raced in Las Vegas. We chatted about our age group and prospects, but we had no clue at that stage that she would come first in our category and take the world title. I would be both overjoyed for her and intensely disappointed with myself. The swim went pretty well for me, considering my expectations, so I jumped on the bike quite positive and continued to be happy as my average bike speed showed well over 20mph for the first few sections of the bike. The cross-winds hit at about 40miles in and I had to laugh out loud as they simply threw me hard across the road, forcing me to

At this point I was seriously dubious as to whether I would be able to finish at all. I reconciled myself to having to walk the run course, even though I was still managing to jog slowly, and could still not stop myself checking out every number that ran past me to see I they were in my age group. Competitiveness dies last apparently. I eventually accepted that jogging was the maximum I was capable of and if I wanted that finisher’s t-shirt that was what I’d have to put up with. Eighteen miles later the girl next to me depressingly estimated our finish time as 12.30hrs, at which point I said, lets change that and asked my body if it could go any faster. To my astonishment I found I could finally run again! Much of this part of the run course was uphill, so run speeds don’t tell the story of how many people I ran past, how fresh I felt and how relieved I was to finally some kind of pace. My final mile of the marathon I sprinted in 6.10 minute/mile, to great support from the crowds. Too little, too late, I crossed the finish line in a dispirited 11.47.42, unplaced. grip the handlebars tight to keep off the hard black lava bordering the course and briefly be thankful for my road bike. Needless to say, not a single disk wheel was to be seen. The course climbed gradually from there into the wind and up to the turnaround point in the small town of Hawi on the Northern tip of the island. The climb was long and tiring, so to turn around at halfway and have the prospect of a long descent with the wind behind me was pure pleasure. I still thought things were going ok at this point, but my stomach had shut down as per usual and was refusing to accept any kind of fuel. At this point, some 5 hours into the race, fuelling should have been my priority, but all I could do was try to keep hydrated. The skies had remained clear, with little of the cloud cover we had become used to, and the heat reflected off the road and lava was fairly intense. The feed stations I arrived at looked as if a tornado had hit them, with little left on the tables and cups, bottles, gel packets and squashed banana strewn all over the road. I was lucky to pick up water by this stage and my fueling strategy was in tatters.

Failure is not something I’m used to and I have to admit to fairly serious depression after the race, which spoiled my experience of one of the most amazing destinations in the world. I’m coming to terms with it now and the only way forward is either to never put myself through it again, as I had promised myself throughout the race, or to go back and do better. No choice really. So if I was that upset with my performance, how do you cope with missing out on an Olympic medal? My highs and lows this year have in the end led me to take lessons from both, to enjoy success, but not count on it, to accept defeat and learn from it. With determination we can all achieve amazing things and self-belief is the key.

To compound my misery, as the hours went on the wind picked up. I couldn’t work out how the wind was now in my face yet again on the way home, how did that happen? People on their lovely tt bikes were free-wheeling downhill past me, as I pedaled as furiously as I was able. Transition had never seemed so far away. All I wanted to do was get oﬀ the bike and I made it my mission just to keep pedaling until I arrived, one revolution at a time. Finally the town was in sight and a sharp downhill into transition was a blessed relief. I hadn’t realised how hard I’d pushed on the bike though, it had seemed so slow, (averaging just under 18mph in the end), but when my feet hit the ground I found my legs simply would not support me. I was leaning on the bike to keep me upright, when it was taken from me to be racked and, just managing to stay upright, I hobbled round to the changing tent, where I collapsed onto a chair and downed two full cups of coke. The super helper managed to organise me into my trainers and relieve me of my bike kit, shoving gels into my back pocket, which I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach. I sat for a bit longer before praying that my legs would hold me up and set of in that distinctive ironman shuﬄe on to the marathon course.

The Making of a Games Maker

By Graham Short

was split into 4 areas, one for each point of the compass, and we received a daily briefing in our area groups before being split into our teams and given a further team instructions. Each team had a specific role, which might be manning the ticket booths for a gate into the stadium or in charge of a seating area. This aspect of the role of organising us took hours at the start of each day. There was a lot of hanging around because just our Event Services Team inside the stadium consisted of 800 people on a shift who needed splitting into areas then teams, and moved into place. On the first day we finished our final briefing just 15 minutes before gates opened. During these 15 minutes all of us were moving like blue-arsed flies around our area making sure we knew where our nearest first aid or buggy store was, where to get drinking water and where to let it out. In 15 minutes time we would be expected to be experts. Of course we would be in 10 days time, but this was shift one.

Graham Short I have never won the lottery, and it’s pretty unlikely that I ever will (since I understand you have to buy a ticket) but I came closest to experiencing that lottery winning feeling, on 21st September last year, when I received an email telling me, not only that I’d been accepted as a Games Maker, but that I would be based at the Olympic Stadium. It was virtually a year to the day since I’d submitted my initial application, I’d had an interview 2 weeks earlier which had gone pretty well, but the odds were that nearly 3 in 4 people would be unsuccessful. But some people do win the lottery and I was in. Now all I had to do was wait another year! Goodness I hope there’s some good training because I didn’t feel particularly able to stage an Olympics (even in my small way) at this point. Training started with an orientation session on a bitterly cold day last February at Wembley Arena along with 10000 others. This really didn’t really give us much idea of what we’d actually be doing, but was more designed to inspire and ignite our interest. Like we needed it! I remember one phrase that Seb Coe used in his talk during the event. He was confident that we would put on a good games. “Your role as Games Makers”, he said, “would be to turn a good games into a great games”. The cynic in me in thought “well you would say that wouldn’t you”. I don’t believe that many of us at that time had any idea of whether such a task was achievable. Particularly by British people. The subsequent role-specific training events did not just concentrate on the practical aspects of the job like using ticket scanners and checking accreditation, but on motivating us to be something else. Something distinctive, something inspirational. Are you kidding! Don’t you know we’re British? We are dour aren’t we? We keep ourselves to ourselves. Excellent at queuing though. That’s a comfort. I set the alarm for 2am for my first shift (way too early) to catch the 4:08am train from Bedford. I felt conspicuous as the only one dressed in purple on Bedford station. However, by the time we reached St. Pancras there were more Games Makers than not exiting the platform. Many were now experienced since the other venues had been running for a week. It’s hard to convey the excitement that I felt as I entered the park and saw the stadium and thought to myself, “that’s my office for the day”. It felt such a privilege to be part of that team at the start of every shift. I found myself drawing in a deep breath and metaphorically pinching myself. As we checked in we were given a deployment card which assigned us to a specific area and team for the day. The stadium

On this first shift our team was allocated the role of managing crowds in an area of the concourse. One nice Japanese lady came up to me. In her broken English she asks “where can I buy your uniform”. “You want to buy this?” Come on Graham be professional now. “I’m afraid you can’t buy it, it’s only provided for those that work here”. I don’t add that most of us were terribly self conscious of wearing it initially. Though this would change over the coming days. Two of our team (a dinner lady from Leeds and a lady accountant from Surrey) are given the job of (wo)manning the umpire chair to greet those coming into our area. You get a script but they threw this away fairly soon. The smiles these two ladies generated in the world’s corniest jokes were infectious. Maybe Brits can be very welcoming after all. Of course being at the greatest show on earth helped quite a bit. There’s the noise for one thing. You didn’t so much hear it as feel it in your stomach as the stadium erupted. When it did so people started running to see what was happening. I wander in looking casual and talk to a colleague. “What’s happening?” “It’s Jess Ennis.” “What has she done?” “She stood up and took off her tracksuit!” “Ah”. Next day on my second shift I met another Games Maker on the platform at Bedford. He was working at Russell Square. He had twice as many shifts as I did and his role was to direct the press onto the correct bus to get to the various Olympic venues. For me these were the real heroes amongst the volunteers, like those working the last mile directing people to and from Stratford station. They had to deal with millions of people, often at the end of the day, when they were tired and not in the best frame of mind. I experienced this in a small way on my second shift. I was in seating, but got moved at the end of the shift to help with the buggy store. Now much in the Olympics was well organised. One exception to this was just how much space was provided for pushchairs and wheel chairs. The rooms were far too small to meet the demand. We had two rooms which were stacked floor to ceiling with buggies. And of course those that deposited them earliest tended to be those that wanted to pick them up first. This was terribly inconsiderate. We really needed them to turn up in reverse order since those that left them latest were the easiest to reach. “Mine’s a black McClaren” one lady says. Of course they were all bl**dy black McClarens. “Can I suggest madam sprays it pink next time”. But these were tired children and tired adults and we needed to find their

vehicles in a timely manner. There were 8 of us frantically pulling buggies from these rooms by the end. My third shift was my first evening shift. I mostly worked morning shifts, but the finals were in the evenings, so this was exciting. The highlight of that evening was the 100m with Mr. Bolt going for his first gold medal. The shift was probably the hardest of the games. We got one short break for a meal but the rest of the time was pretty much full on. So many people tried to blag their way into the stadium that night. We also had people rushing the entrance to try and force their way in. I had several face offs with some very angry, some very drunk people who felt they deserved to be inside. We turned away athletes and coaches that didn’t have the appropriate accreditation. We turned away Sally Gunnell! We turned away two policemen with machine guns!! It was so hectic that we’d rather resigned to being stuck on the bridge all evening. At 9:45 we had an emergency briefing. There were a lot of extra people milling around the disabled seating area. They were causing a nuisance by leaning over people in wheelchairs to take photos. We were redeployed to form a cordon behind their seats. We were moved in just before the race started and as soon as it finished we were moved back onto the bridge. I was inside the stadium for a little over 10 seconds.

So proceeded my Olympics week. Confidence, pride and joy growing by the hour. Each morning that sharp intake of breath at the first glimpse of my stadium office. A physically demanding day as we often didn’t get much break during the shift, but then who wanted to spend time in the break area. I really enjoyed the interaction with the public. When families came in I would ask the children “Excited?” Some seemed to hide behind their parents at being spoken to, so I’d chide “He’s hiding it well”. It brought a smile and smiles are infectious. On the bridges I had to make sure that every entrance gate was utilised to keep queues down to a minimum. “Please use all the ticket entrances” I would bellow “as all the stewards are equally ugly”. When it was my time for scanning I would throw my arms out wide as people approached from a distance. This invariably meant that some would throw their arms open in response. “You don’t have to hug me madam, I just need to scan your ticket”. Back home that afternoon passing policeman doing the “Mobot”. Weary after my journey, I’d sit and watch the highlights program on TV I’d recorded from the day before, invariably loaded with the success of Team GB. By the end of this emotional roller coaster, there were few days where I wasn’t close to tears, if not in tears. Amazing to those of us on the team, was just how much praise was being given to the volunteers. The plaudits from Locog, athletes, spectators, the media, and even the likes of Boris were as surprising as they were welcome. My God, what am I part of? My final shift was the closing ceremony. Before hand, I was really excited to be working it. It turned out to be, without doubt, my worst shift. I was allocated to the bridge closest to the VIP area. As the games had pretty much finished in the park this was to be solely used by the Olympic Family to come into the park. As you may remember there was just 24 hours between the last athletics in the Stadium and the closing ceremony, when staging needed to be erected to turn the place into a concert venue. The dress rehearsal was running late and as we stood waiting for the all clear, a line of dignitaries were escorted up to our entrance. A man from Zambia was at the head of the queue. “I’m afraid we haven’t been given security clearance to let you in at present”, I said. “Well that won’t do, there are old people here. They won’t be able to queue here for long”. Slightly taken aback, I asked his colleague from Zambia “Have you had a good games, sir”, “Well it’s been alright so far, but we shall have to see after this”, adding “I don’t like to talk when I’m

tired”. This set pretty much the tone for the evening. These people are after all professional Olympic visitors. They seemed to be here mainly to eat, drink and criticise. I wanted to be with the happy people; the General Public. They were a joy to be with. There was also once again hundreds trying to blag their way past us to get into the ceremony. Whilst turning away a 7 foot high basketball player who admitted he’d had some drug issues, I was approached by a lady Games Maker who was working in the park but didn’t have stadium accreditation. She said, “I know I can’t come in but could you take my phone in and take some photos to show my class” (she was a trainee teacher). I ran up the 4 flights of stairs past the VIP area to the only place we could get in to see. I must have misunderstood her instructions, because I couldn’t seem to make her phone work. Down again and I explain that I don’t think I’m doing it right. She looks and says, “Yes all you’ve managed to take a photo of, is your thumb”. Right that does it, I grab her by the hand; haul her after me up 4 flights, flashing my accreditation at the steward as I go. I put her in the stair well where she has a good view and she takes her shots. 30 seconds later she comes blubbing to me “I don’t want to get into trouble” and down we go again. As I show her back out the exit gate, I at last start to feel good about myself. This is what I should be doing, making people happy. As Queen comes on we start the actions to “We will rock you” in a row with the girls selling the programs. The spectators coming to use the smoking area by us fall about laughing. Yes, that’s what we do. We make people happy. In doing so we made ourselves happy, and proud of our country and our achievements. Yes even British people. Great British People. P.S. If you haven’t already seen it put “Happiest Olympic Volunteer 2012” into YouTube and enjoy a good laugh.

My Journey To L.....

Stories from 30 years of running, cycling From The Colworth 5 to The Race Across America, and swimming...

Duathlon, Triathlon, Ironman and back again...

(these are the first few lines of my upcoming autobiography due out early 2013!?) Triathletes and marathon runners shouldn’t fear the end - finishing a long hard run or Triathlon is a bit like dying. The day after you are a just a bit stiff.... For those outside the triathlon fraternity ‘L’ is the age 60-64 category as defined by the British Triathlon Federation. Having started my running career – if you can call it that - back in 1981 at the tender age of 29, I have now gone to L – literally....

Foreword. Before 1981, my perception of long-distance running (or running just for the hell of it) in the UK was that it was mainly for odd-balls – people who had tried, and perhaps failed at the more conventional sports at school. Track running, especially middle distance events as part of Athletics had always had a fairly steady following in Britain but probably more so in the 70s and 80s than it is today? Perhaps the London Olympics might re-invigorate the nations interest and more youngsters especially will head for their nearest Athletics track. As I write however, I fear Team GB will struggle to medal in all but a few *middle and long distance running events and any glimmer of enthusiasm will fade before the end of the year. * OK – perhaps a certain Somali born GB athlete might do quite well!! Maybe it’s because that back in the 70s we regularly turned out world-class middle distance runners. Coe, Ovett, Moorcroft, Cram et al. The media jumped on the bandwagon and these guys subsequently became household names. Running finally was beginning to look ‘cool’ and british youngsters had a belief that they could be the best runners in the world. Road, trail and marathon running was still distinctly a minority sport. I remember from school the 1962 film and book “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” by Alan Sillitoe and that galvanised mine and I guess a lot of other peoples views of running – i.e it was a ‘lonely’ old business. However in 1977 things were stirring in the USA. People – lots of people- were out running.. to get fit, to compete in the occasional race or just because they could – and yes it actually felt good! A guy called James (Jim) Fixx had written a book called the “Complete Book of Running” and in so doing helped launch the first global running boom.... and over in Hawaii, a top endurance swimmer, an ultra distance cyclist and marathon runner decided to challenge each other to an IRONman Triathlon. The following year

By Richard Piron

in ’78, 15 triathletes took part and the rest, as they say, is history. The running boom inevitably crossed the Pond in ‘80/’81 and I, along with many others got caught up in this new sport and pass time for the masses. From 1982 to 1986 running exploded in the UK and mainland Europe– events appeared everywhere – from 5 miles up to the Marathon. Established athletic clubs didnt quite know how to cope with the influx of new runners who weren’t particularly interested in track running. New clubs were formed – Striders, Road runners, Fun Runners, Runners, Joggers and Shufflers sprung up alongside the established ‘Athletics Clubs (AC)s’ Triathlon didn’t really take off big time until the late 1980s but by the mid to late 1990s was itself booming, with runners, swimmers and cyclists all keen on giving multi-sport a go. The great thing about Running and Triathlon and probably one of the main reasons for it’s success is that you don’t need to book up a venue, don’t need to check whether your buddy or team are free, the court or pitch is available, don’t need a referee and you are not constrained by time – just take off wherever or whenever you feel inclined. Cycle to work, run to work. Run before work, swim at lunchtime, run home from work, run and bike with the kids in a buggy. It was and is just a case of being imaginative. Innovative event organizations took advantage of our lust for all things running and all manner of races appeared on the scene. Although Triathlon will always be a summer sport unless you have the means to move hemispheres twice a year, there is no real season for running, it’s just as much fun (off-road) in the snow as t is on a beautiful warm summers day. It was this thinking that coaxed me away from football and squash 30 years ago and set me on a journey of discovery. This is my story a pretty average runner and triathlete, someone who likes to compete but, more importantly, enjoys the training experience, the cameraderie of like-minded people exploring the countryside and testing their minds and bodies against the terrain, the elements and pushing to see how far and how fast they can do it. Sometimes I prefer to run and bike alone, sometimes with a big group. More often than not I like hills, woods, mountains and heathland, but other times it’s fine racing on flat tarmac against the clock. By including Triathlon, the scope for adventure is even wider – road cycling, sportives, racing across continents!, MTB on trails, open water swimming in lakes, rivers and sea. I first saw the light one warm May morning in 1981. Still in the Company’s squash league, my buddy Ray suggested we try and get a bit fitter and he took me on a 3 mile run around the Colworth Estate where we both worked. We didnt have proper running shoes, just a pair of old Green Flash tennis shoes. We set off at an easy pace and after about a mile or so came that ‘eureka moment’. I had run a bit like this training for football and being forced, at school to do Cross-country when the football pitch was too waterlogged, but now I suddenly just enjoyed doing it – running. Feeling the warmth of the sun, the breeze, listening to the birds, seeing new countryside. We weren’t racing, just running a comfortable pace. It immediately made me question why I wanted to go into a big box and hit a little green ball around for half an hour or more. I carried on playing squash for a few more months but the writing was on the wall. ....I had become a runner.

Looking back on 2012, the Olympics and all that

By Jutta Crane

When Adam asked me to write an article for the magazine my thoughts were a) another year gone by, already, how? and b) did anything remarkable actually happen in 2012? Well, the Queen celebrated her Diamond Anniversary and even as a non-British person I appreciated all the pomp and glory and I even watched some of that endless boat procession. When it comes to putting on a spectacle the Jubilee was only outdone by the Olympics. London really knows how to put on a show. I know that some of the Harriers acted as games-makers and by all accounts it was something they will remember forever. Tickets to the Olympics were, allegedly, rare and so when we got a request from my German cousin to book her some tickets my heart sank. My cousin, her husband and their daughter Finja had a special reason to be at the Olympics. Finja competes in the heptathlon and represents Germany in her age group, she is 16 at the moment. Will she compete in the next Olympics? Who knows. It’s a long and expensive road for an amateur athlete. Anyway, she was desperate to get in to see the athletics events and we applied for 6 sessions. We only got the one session, but were so fortunate that it was the evening of the “Golden Saturday” when Jessica Ennis won the heptathlon and Mo Farah won another gold. Their seats were perfect, everybody was friendly, the crowd was deafening, everybody cried and for just one moment the stadium (and the nation!) celebrated as one. I think if anyone appreciates the effort it took for Jessica Ennis to win the heptathlon it is a fellow athlete. Whilst not taking anything away from the efforts of Mo and the others (and certainly not from the Iron men and women I know!!), I think it takes a special person to win the heptathlon. You have to be good at seven different disciplines. For the shot put and javelin throw you want muscles, big muscles. But they are not very helpful for keeping your weight down to make you run fast in the 100m hurdles, 800m and 200m. You then need the skill for the high jump which requires maximum precision so that you launch yourself at the right moment. Anyway, we will be able to follow Finja’s progress in the heptathlon as she is coming to stay in England for a year from September 2013 and will train with Beds & County (did I hear “boo, hiss”?). She has also taken up pole vaulting so if you see us lugging her six poles around you will know why. We are learning a lot at the moment, for example that you need different poles for different conditions so they can be longer, shorter, more bendy, more rigid etc. She currently clears 3.20 metres, just measure that against a wall and look up and imagine yourself jumping that high, I get vertigo just imagining it. Oh, one more highlight of 2012: Watching Bev Hayes and fellow runners in a race, all dressed in their school uniforms. Allegedly, the organisers have asked them to come back every year dressed like that as it really drew the crowds. It actually just confirmed what I have always said: “die Doofen werden nicht alle, sie werden Mitglied bei den Bedford Harriers.” Loosely translated as: “Bedford Harriers are all a bit nuts but quite lovable with it”. Happy New Year and Happy Running.

Photos by Ian Sturdgess

Still Some Nice From 2005 People in the as a Complete Beginner World By Alastair Fadden

One nice group of people are the guys at the Beds Garden Carers our chosen charity for this year - When Paul Sutherland showed me round their HQ in Brereton Road, Bedford. He introduced me to a bunch of guys who love sanding and restoring furniture. Over a year later when it was brought up at the committee meeting that our lovely bench that was kindly donated to us in memory of Doug Anderson was in need of some TLC I remembered this fact. I phoned BGC asked them if they would mind putting their skills to good use. Of course they said yes, they picked it up and spent many happy hours sanding polishing and oiling the bench to restore it to its former glory and returned it back into situ. It now looks great and should be good for many years to come - a big thank you to BGC. Maybe if you have time, take a trip round to our lockup where our bench lives and spend a few moments testing the bench and admiring their good work. As a footnote the restoring team leader at Beds Garden Carers was so impressed with the quality of the wooden joints that are now few years old he decided to phone up Stuart Garden Architecture who made the bench to tell them how impressed he was - the next week a van pulled up with a brand new top quality bench for the charity as a thanks for such a nice phone call - that's another bunch of really nice people!

By Elise Allen

I joined the Bedford Harriers in 2005 as a complete beginner. The first time our group were able to ‘run on the road’ we felt like ‘proper runners’. Since then I have done races from 5K to Half Marathons and Triathlons. I am proud to say I was on the Race Management Team which I can recommend to everyone, if you can’t run the race it’s nice to see it from the other side. Everyone that you cheer on at races is very appreciative of marshals and it makes it a very worthwhile job. I also completed all of the Cross Country races last year just so that I could get my beanie hat (which I haven’t worn yet!). I recently moved to Weymouth but I have to say I am VERY PROUD to have been a Bedford Harrier for the last seven years. I have met some fantastic friends through it and if anyone had said to me years ago that I would be a runner I would have bet money on it that I wouldn’t. I say GIVE IT A GO, you will feel fantastic after achieving something that you perhaps thought you couldn’t do. Thank you to everyone that made it so special.

Beds County XC

at Campbell Park, Milton Keynes Saturday 5th January By Angie Kay

The championships were well under way by the time the Harriers needed to be there, the men were starting at 1pm for their 3 or 4 laps (11k approx) depending on age and the ladies starting at 2pm for a mere 2 laps! (5k!!)

It is hoped that the organisers will up the distance for the ladies as only 2 laps is rather an insult on their ability!!

The course was all on grass with some very steep hills and then the massive descents - all of it was muddy and slippery! It was a great venue to watch the race as you can see a lot of the runners and seeing who had fallen over with their sides covered in mud. The men went off for their 4 laps the over 60’s only having to complete 3 and the temperature decided to drop so out came the scarves and hats but this did not stop us cheering and encouraging them round the course. There were some fantastic sprint finishes and a good result from the men. The ladies, all 4 of them, started and the faster ladies did lap some of the remaining men on course. Again watching and cheering our ladies into 2nd Vets team and age category winners.

Next is Parliament Hills and I shall be running this event pink spikes have been ordered. Results Anna Folland Kevin Willett Alastair Fadden Neil Lovesey Richard Piron

2nd Lady, 1st vet and 1st vet 40 1st Vet 45 3rd Vet 45 1st Vet 50 1st Vet 60

2nd Senior Ladies & Vet Team Anna Folland Sally Cartwright Sally Johnson

3rd Vet Men’s Team Kev Willett Alastair Fadden Gary Finch Chris Linney Dave Roberts Neil Lovesey

Life on the Front Row of the Griddle

Testing Einstein’s Theory

Despite my best efforts to poison all the runners at our very own Half Marathon, once again I was asked to cook the sausages and bacon. I arrived a 8 o’clock armed with 5kgs of chopped onions (thank goodness for swimming googles or I would still be crying now), homemade vegetable soup and various cooking utensils.

Apparently Einstein claimed that 98% of people could not solve a riddle about European male smokers and drinkers. His puzzle has been recast using terms more familiar to runners (and to discourage sneaks on the web!). Can 10 or more Harriers solve it?

By Alastair Fadden

I fully expected to have to setup the oven, tables and the gazebo to find this had all been done for me but right round the corner from my normal near kitchen position. OK...so who have I upset this time? But the reality was the night shift of the setup crew had attempted put up the gazebo and it had exploded in the high winds and it was considered more sheltered round the corner - good call, thank you chaps! Apart from the oven and hob flames being blown out on a regular basis all was going well, bangers and bacon coming off the production line. I just needed the kitchen staff to sell them a little faster and we might just cook the small food mountain that had been supplied for the morning! With the bacon smell slowly working it's way across to Cranfield I managed to attract my first friend of the day a local farm boarder collie dog. Always with health and safety in mind strong words like 'Go away' and 'Shoo' at first I appeared to have the upper hand! But this hound was playing the long game. At first it was a quick dip into the bin pulling out a batch of burnt Onions which was grabbed and taken into the play ground to be dispatched (I guess it was a little fruity in the farmhouse that night). Time to get the upper hand again and box up all the meat, hide the bin and keep half an eye on my four legged friend. Apart from the odd bit of packaging that was lifted by the wind I was winning the war. Cooking in full flow, bacon and onions on the grill and a full batch of bangers nearly cooked in the oven and I had to make an announcement to the kitchen staff - 'I'm very sorry, but I can't serve the sausages and there will be a short break while I solve a minor problem - the blasted dog has stolen my oven gloves' - (you will be glad to know that the Harriers property was recovered with the aid of many years of running finally been put to good use!) Zoe soon came to the rescue with the aid of couple of a clean tea towels, but it took a little longer for Jutta to recover from laughing at my expense! Round two to the dog.

By Bob Wells

The top 5 runners in the Shires Road Race Championship came from 5 different clubs and each celebrated their success with a different drink. Each runner used a different brand of shoe and different colour shorts throughout the season, and each had the best WAVA percentage at one of the 5 contested distances. The Hurrier was the Shires’ champion. The Jogger wore red shorts. The Ambler was best at the marathon The runner in green shorts was best at 10k. The runner in yellow shorts wore ASICS shoes. The runner in Saucony shoes was best at the 5k. The Plodderwore Nike shoes.The runner who wore New Balance shoes drank white wine. The runner placed 3rd was best at the half-marathon. The runner in Adidas shoes was placed next to the one who drank beer. The runner who drank red wine placed next to the one who wore ASICS shoes. The runner in green shorts placed just ahead of the one in black shorts. The runner in Adidas shoes placed next to the best at 5 miles. The Hurrier placed next to the runner with blue shorts. The Striders member drank lemonade. Who celebrated by drinking water?

With everything wiped down again and cooking back in full flow, the soup was bubbling on the stove and the make shift oven gloves doing the job. The dog was keeping a low profile, maybe that hard stare and moderate language did the trick. This sly old dog had one last game to play on me before the end of play. This time coming from the other side of the building coming out of the shadow a quick grab and he's got my wooden spoon (not one of my prize winning one's). Shuttle run training this time let me down - the closer I got to the hound the faster he got. The last I saw of the little pest was on the horizon mashing my spoon like an old stick. (may I use this article as invoice for £2.99 to the Harriers for a new spoon?) If I find myself on the griddle next year I would like to put in an equipment request to the race management: a spare set of oven gloves, more disinfectant and a Toy Nerf Gun with a bag of foam bullets in case my furry friend wants to put his title back on the line for a rematch!