The 2012 Eurovision parkrunning contest

Round two of marshalling this week and another really warm day again. The last time I marshalled was when we had the very warm spell at the back-end of March. Today was much the same – only hotter.

The day needed some coolness and class, so I decided to wear my nautical-inspired outfit. I bedecked myself in white shorts, blue and white striped t-shirt and blue deck shoes. The only item missing was a hat.  I almost opted for my Richard Gere Officer and a Gentleman outfit, but, on second thoughts, and knowing the forecast, I left it, neatly folded, in my special dressing up box.

7:00am arrived – time to make my way to Ore station to catch the 7:15 train to Hampden Park. As we trundled down the track, somewhere near Norman’s Bay, I noticed a small tea-drip on my shorts. Nooooooooo!

It wasn’t as if I had over-spilled on my legs; it was the tiniest drip, but now I had seen it, it seemed noticeable. And when one has such thrilling legs, as I do, I worried that others may spot it when I was marshalling and that may put them off their stride.

I had some orange-fragrance Marks and Spencer hand wipes in my rucksack, (as every self-respecting gentleman should have), so I took one out and dabbed gently at the offending mark. Bugger! It wasn't coming off. Oh well, I was just going to have to live with it. And, maybe, nobody would notice.

I arrived at parkrun and strode joyfully to the start area, where the organisers were frantically setting up the start and finish chutes. They are great though. Despite the freneticism, (I have just made that word up), they still had time to greet me:

“Hi Martin, nice to see you. I see you’ve dripped a small amount of tea on your shorts this morning…”

“Hey, Martin, good to see you. Do you want a cup of tea? Oh, I can see you’ve already had one….”

Once everything was set up, it was time for marshalling duty. I donned the over-sized high viz and, resembling a nuclear-fuelled oompah-loompah, I made my way over to marshall the bridge section.

On Eurovision weekend, I am affectionately renaming this bridge The Hump and, from hereon in, this week’s extravaganza is known as the Eurovision parkrunning contest.

9:00am ticked by. I heard the countdown in the distance. Three, two, one….  Let the Eurovision parkrunning contest, BEGIN.

A couple of minutes later, the first of the runners thundered by, going hell for leather in the heat. The first to go were well-rehearsed, with excellent stage presence and production values. 

Fortunately for me, they were going too fast to notice the tea-drip on my shorts. Whoosh, phnow, shooom – past me they all whizzed, heading off on their large loop of the park. A couple of friendly “Thank you, marshall” graces were proffered in my direction.  Was that a subtle attempt to nobble the Eurovision parkrunning jury? Try harder, I can be nobbled, for the right price.

The last of the runners came through, with determined concentration and friendly smile, and the sound of feet disappeared into the distance. The birds could be heard tweeting the end of their morning song, the sound of a train rat-a-tatting in the distance and the sun was silently piercing down on me.

Then, the excitement  really began and, in true Song Contest style, it was time for the voting…

First over the bridge came Ed Dodd, representing the Current Republic of Eastbourne AC with his version of ‘You Can’t Catch Me (La La La La La La)'. A favourite with the parkrunning audience, he was awarded ‘douze points’. For anyone who doesn't speak Eurovision, that's 12 points.

Dix (10) points, went to Matthew Southam also representing the Current Republic of Eastbourne AC with his entry, 'Boom, bang-a-bang’ as he bounded with style and aplomb over the bridge. (Note to self: investigation into the partisan running of two entries from the same country. Is this permitted under the Eurovision parkrunning contest rules? )

Huit (8) points, and third place, went to David Perry, representing himself, and who entertained us all with his upbeat version of 'Happily Slappidy Feet'.  This was a very slick performance and one he should be very proud of.

The other 76 nations followed behind. I was particularly impressed by this entry from the little known nation of Labradoodle. As you can see, these contestants had real grace on the stage with stunning production. Their version of ‘Woof for Peace’ was a mightily uplifting ditty.

But, as with most Eurovision parkrunning contests, there were a few entries that sounded the same. With versions of ‘Are we nearly there yet?’, ‘I can’t breathe’ and ‘It’s Too Damn Hot’, being some of the more memorable ones.

I did have to disqualify the lovely Kate Fowler for smiling as she came over the bridge. Grimacing, pained expressions, pathos and determination are all permissible at the 4km mark of the Eurovision parkrunning contest, but grinning from ear to ear is not.

There was one entry though that did particularly hit home. It came later down the running order, but I couldn't identify the artist. 

What was that you were  singing?

‘I see you spilled some tea – tee-he-he-he-he!’

I was very much struck by this …

And when I kicked him in the shins, so was he….

Martin Allen, nil points.

All was forgiven though at the after-parkrun party as the runners mingled politely, sipped water and deconstructed their performances.

The lambrini, ferrero rocher and debauched dancing came later - and rumour has it that was just Kate Fowler again...

Ps. – please note this piece is entirely fictitious (for the most part) and no runners were actually injured (or drunk) in the making of this blog.
Follow me on Twitter @martinallen72
Visit Eastbourne Parkrun website here

Just call me Fiona...

A new experience for me today. Not only do I have a blog to write, but I was asked to write the news report  from this week’s Eastbourne parkrun. So, donning my Fiona Bruce wig, my come hither eyes and my best sassy voice, I delivered the Eastbourne parkrun headlines. You can read all about it here.

As for the conventional blog – read on...

It was very warm this morning despite the cloud and the sun having an early morning pillow-fight. Cloud wanted the duvet on and the sun wanted it off. It seemed cloud had won as we were greeted by grey skies at the start, but, just as cloud fell back asleep and started snoring, sun peeled back the duvet and shone righteously upon us.

I arrived early to meet Event Director, Stuart Pelling, to receive instructions on how to upload a news report. Instructions were clearly inscribed on lined paper, which was neatly folded and handed over to me. I was slightly disappointed that there was no special ceremony, no trumpeting fusiliers, no royal dignitaries, no handshake photo shoot, not even a Boris Johnson! But, I suppose, in matters of parkrun security, one can’t be too careful when it comes to publicity. I was looking for Top Secret stamped over the paperwork, but I can only summise it had been written in special invisible ink. Apparently, if I hold it over a naked flame I might just be able….. oh bugger, ooooh, owwww, WATER!!!!

We were back on the usual course today, the ditch having dried out to just deep, slippy mud, rather than the fast-flowing river of last week – well, it was more like 2 inches of standing water, but you know how we blokes like to exaggerate things, eh?

I lined up with 68 other hopeful runners, not quite knowing what kind of performance I would be putting in today.

Stuart started us off with a puff on the whistle and off we thundered. After about 100 metres, I was conscious of a young boy who flew his little legs past me like Loony Tunes roadrunner. ‘Beep Beep’, I thought to myself, ‘he’s gone off too fast  - he’ll come back’. I stayed with him for about 1/2 kilometre and then he went! Wile E Coyote here never saw him again in the run.

Here is a photo of him, I and third placed lady, Anne, rounding the bushes not long into the race

I am not sure of his finishing position as I don't think he had a barcode, but I was completely dumbstruck and in awe of this young boy, who clearly has a huge talent (and passion) for running. As we handed in our tags at the end, he was stood by the finish table. I told him how brilliant he had run and how he had beat me by miles. He looked surprised. “Did I beat you, then?” he asked. “You slaughtered me” I replied. He smiled back a small grin of satisfaction and surprise at what he had achieved.  Whilst the fact he slaughtered me is true, and he beat me by absolute miles, I’m hardly the quickest person in the field and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that a one-legged monkey running backwards could beat an ageing 39 yr old short-arse! But what an inspiration he was and I was so chuffed at his performance.

As for me, no trips or slips, but plenty of swinging hips, as I settled into a nice rhythm. But, as usual, come halfway, I was feeling pretty exhausted and while my pace didn’t drop at all, it was hard work just putting one foot in front of the other as I ran at lactate threshold.

At 4km, there were five of us in quite close proximity – myself, a lady, two senior men and a veteran. I latched on to the back of them and chose to hang on to their tech-tee tails until 100m to go. That’s if I could hang on! As we emerged from the ditch, we all bunched up and it was clear that there was some cat and mouse as to who was going to go first. 

Bit by bit the pace increased, when, all of a sudden, one of the men went. The lady swiftly followed suit. I slipstreamed them both until we hit the grass and, boom, off I went. I sprinted clear, a habit I seem to have gotten into each week. My arms and legs flailed like an octopus in a whirlpool as I fixed my eyes on the finishing chute and ran my little socks off. I held them all at bay. The lady finished 3 seconds behind, with the three other chaps in hot pursuit. Even mid-pack plodders can enjoy the thrills and spills of a tactical affair and I was gobsmacked that I managed a 4:31 min/mile pace in the sprint to the line. If I can just get some talent and a lot more endurance speed, I could, perhaps, do a bit better at this running lark.


Here is my sprint finish with valiant pursuers in behind.

Utterly exhausted, I accepted my position tag and the congratulations of the marshall for my sprint finish and indulged in my customary collapse to the ground.

Senses soon regathered, I checked my watch which showed a 24:32 – (my slowest parkrun to date) some 23 seconds slower than last week and a minute away from my course and distance personal best. Not one to be motivated by time, this was no bother to me. I had thoroughly enjoyed the run and I knew, whatever time I achieved, I had given it 110%.

I’ll be marshalling next week so please all do a sun dance in anticipation.

Anyway, it’s time now to shuffle my papers and hand over to Ulrika Fish for the weather…

Diversions, dodgy waterworks and dreaming the dream…

My first parkrun for three weeks and my first back at Eastbourne for four. Trips to London and the lovely 'Isley' Wight in between have meant four weeks of abscondence from the sunshine coast. The sunshine coast? Don’t make me laugh! For these past few weeks it has been greyer than an over-90’s day out – and just as wet!

Parkrun number 9 for me today and what a scorcher for my return. I wasn’t convinced when I woke up and a northerly wind was howling its way down my road on a Hastings hill. But, the sun was shining and I had packed a short-sleeved t-shirt in my rucksack in case of warmer climes in Eastbourne.

On my arrival I pottered about, jig-jogging, taking sips of water, catching glances of other people and experiencing that awkward moment when you’re not sure whether they’re looking back at you and whether you ought to say hello. Quite often, they’re merely looking directly over your shoulder at something else. What usually starts with a lift of the hand and the beginning of a ‘he-‘ quickly descends into a fake ‘ahem’ cough and a quick-thinking scratch of the head as you realise they haven’t clocked you at all. Feel the blood begin to flush your cheeks.

I changed into my short sleeved t-shirt, making I sure I did so when few people were around. My booming physique would surely have set a few heart rate monitors into irreversible overdrive. You see, I’m thoughtful like that.

Starter calls us over for a special announcement. Have I won the prize for best Eastbourne blogger? No. Has there been a mistake because it’s parkrun and the sun is shining? No. Have they diverted the route away from the army assault course section? YES!  Owing to the recent wet weather, which, by all accounts, led to ankle deep water for some last week, a visit to the ditch had been dropped from the itinerary. We would not now descend into the grimpen mire and would, instead, take the route along the football pitch edge, on higher and marginally drier ground. This shortened the route a little, so an extra diversion was added, which I will recount shortly.

Starter counted down from three and blew his whistle; a real pro. There followed a two second delay as I tried to press start on my Garmin – believe me, when you’re as stupid as I am, even pressing a button on a watch can be a challenge!

I set off at a slightly more conservative pace than usual. I wasn’t in the sub 7 minute mile melee that usually ensues for the first hundred yards and, instead, settled in at 7m 10s.  We were clinically diverted away from the ditch by the fabulously marshalling Steph (who does running) Burton and along the football pitch edge, which made its own attempts to hobble the runners. The grass was quite long here and I noticed two people put their foot down only to see it disappear a few inches into a hole or depression in the ground.  Running in long grass is akin to running through tyre hoops – that strangely odd wide stance and high knee lift as you try to avoid hidden holes and shoelace/greenery entanglement. There was a slightly flattened strip where a car tyre had pressed the grass and many runners tried to use this as a guide.

On reaching the other end, instead of turning left onto the path, we were sent round a small copse and then switch-backed round a playground – more twists and turns here than an Agatha Christie plot! I felt sorry for the marshall at this point, who must have spent 40 minutes standing in a stench of dog dirt, because it was pretty strong round there.  You have this panicked ‘was it me’ moment as you kick your heels up high behind you, aim to check the soles of your shoes and then witness  all the runners around you doing the same.

Thanking the lord (real or imaginary) that our tread was clear, we continued back onto the familiar route.

Now, all week I have had Les Miserables songs going through my head. By the way, if nobody has ever seen this show, it is the one thing you must do before you die.   I don’t know much about the French Revolution and opera-style singing was never ever my thing, but this show transcends all of that and is guaranteed to blow you away beyond any other entertainment you’ve ever experienced. If there is a more technically brilliant, orchestrally goose-bumpy and, at the end, spine-tinglingly rousing song on Earth than 4 minutes of One Day More, then let it be known.

(Alfie Boe and cast at the 25^th Anniversary concert version attached here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpGA_VRc1Ro)

Anyhow, what has this to do with parkrun today? Well, as my breathing became a bit laboured early on through a bit of fitness deterioration, I needed something to concentrate my mind. So, in my mind’s eye I was Alfie Boe as Jean Valjean singing One Day More and Who Am I. I didn’t vocalise this on the route as I could not be responsible for killing both the song and my fellow parkrunners. Incidentally, if Jean Valjean had a parkrun number he would have to be 24601. (Anyone who has seen Les Mis will understand!!) I’m not 24601 – I’m 237259! I did manage most of Do You Hear The People Sing and a bit of Master of The House as well. I did not belt out I Dreamed a Dream.  If I had a key, it would probably be the wrong one for me - and I forgot about it.

Before I knew it 3km had passed and I knew my pace was lagging a bit. My watch had me down at 8 minute miles and the northerly wind was blowing headlong down the back stretch. I really, really wanted to walk but I kept forcing myself onwards.

It was then that I had a curious experience. I felt a strange warmth down the inside of my leg. Typical! 39 years old and my prostate decides to give up in the middle of a parkrun! I put my hand to my thigh and, to my surprise, it was bone dry.  No esca-pee! Just warm skin. Phew! I still do not know what this sensation was, but I can only describe it as a strange warming feeling creeping down my leg and, I must say, I am relieved my prostate is still in perfect working order. If anyone has any ideas, please write to me on a postcard.

I was conscious that three people had overtaken me on the run. I tried to keep tabs on one young chap (blue t-shirt man) who collared me at halfway, but he was running a bit stronger than me and slowly, step-by step, he kept inching out a gap. Before long he was forty metres ahead and so I focussed on two other guys about twenty metres in front. Back through the twisty turny section we went and, by now, I had almost latched onto them.

I knew that, however exhausted I felt, I always managed to give a sprint finish for 100 metres or so and a little bit of a competitive edge crept in. We swung around the final bend and hit the grass heading towards the finish.  I don’t think they knew I was there. I’m short, lean and very light on my feet, so it wasn’t as if a lumbering rhino was bearing down on them. A small gap opened between them and I half thought about splitting their difference.  But the chap on the right edged slightly in, so I deftly side-stepped to my left and sprinted round the chap on the left. They both responded and a few claps emerged from the spectators as they witnessed a trio of middle aged men sprinting (and I use that term loosely!) for the line. I just had the legs of them and finished in front.

19^th position (again). That was my previous finishing position and, had I run the last two weeks, my average time would have  also put me in that same position on both days.

Garmin time of 24:09 – but that is likely to be rounded up to 24:11 or similar as I fumbled with simple technology at the start.

So, another week, another parkrun. Don’t forget to have a look at the video to see what I was singing on my way round. I think next week I will be singing as The Weather Girls….. both of them!

Other blogs:

Parkrun secrets the nearly professionals didn't want you to know about

Playing away – I just can't stop myself - Richmon parkrun 21 April 2012


The Eastbourne parkrun Grand National - 14 April 2012


Eastbourne parkrun 07 April 2012: The satsuma that got squeezed!


A parkrun lesson

Parkrun secrets the nearly-professionals didn't want you to know about

Some of us parkrun just for the sheer joy of it, some of us parkrun to help improve our fitness, and some of us parkrun because we’re competitive little beggars and we’d do anything to get the fastest time possible.

If you fall into this third category, you might be interested to read the top 10 parkrun secrets that the nearly-professionals didn’t want you to know about!

I’m not one for elitist hoarding, so I am prepared to share these with you, FREE OF CHARGE – yes, that’s FREE OF CHARGE.

Use these techniques and I give you my 100% guarantee that there will be a large (or small) possibility of major (or minor) improvement (or regression) in your park run times.

Can you afford not to read on?

1)    Grow your hair really long and hairspray it into an aerodynamic cycling helmet shape to cut down on wind resistance.

2)    Vaseline the soles of your trainers to reduce surface friction
.
3)    Carb-load on baked beans. Not only are they full of energy, but you can also botty-burp the turbo-boosters at critical moments.

4)    Botox your face – wrinkles and old, saggy skin do nothing to aid your aerodynamic shape.

5)    Insert springs into the soles of your shoes. These will add at least 20 feet to every stride.

6)    Dangle your favourite snack from the peak of your cap. You will run faster as you maniacally chase it in front of your eyes.

7)    Practice running really fast downhill during the week and then just pretend it’s all downhill when you’re at the parkrun.

8)    Put a ‘You won’t catch me, you slow old chuggers’ sign on your back. You’ll have no choice but to run faster with 100 determined park runners after your blood.

9)    Alternatively, strap sausages to your back, for 100 determined park-running dogs to chase after.

10)  Attach a large elastic band to yourself and the finishing chute. Stretch back to the beginning of the parkrun and hold it tight until the whistle goes. And release…


EDIT: After trying technique number 10, I now have a new 5km parkrun PB of 6.25 seconds...

Whilst these techniques have been tried and tested by me and, perhaps, other nearly-professionals, please note that I am not responsible for any damage, injury, or psychiatric sectioning required after attempting them.


Other blogs:
Playing away – I just can't stop myself - Richmon parkrun 21 April 2012

The Eastbourne parkrun Grand National - 14 April 2012

Eastbourne parkrun 07 April 2012: The satsuma that got squeezed!

A parkrun lesson

How parkruns and bumblebees can lead to half marathon success

Eastbourne parkrun 24 March

Eastbourne parkrun 31 March 2012: How Kathy Bates sabotaged my parkrun

PLAYING AWAY – I JUST CAN’T STOP MYSELF – Richmond parkrun 21 April 2012

I had said I was taking three weeks off parkrun blogging, as I couldn’t go to Eastbourne parkrun again until 12 May.

This week, I had an impromptu away fixture and my blogging brain went into a hyperdrive of excitement.

Up in Twickenham to spectate the Virgin London Marathon, I took the opportunity to show Richmond parkrun what I’m all about.

It also meant the return of the wonderful satsuma. Lynda, our good friend and Twickenham resident, was hosting us for the weekend and, resplendent in her orange Berlin Half Marathon top, we set out to conquer the course.

I have run around Richmond Park once before, for a 10k Fix event at the back end of February, so I knew the course outline; where I could run hard and where I could run harder.

It was a cool morning as we strolled the couple of miles along the river from Twickenham to Richmond, only really warming ourselves up with a struggle up the hill at Turner’s view.

The park itself was buzzing with Saturday morning exercisers, be they cyclists, dog walkers, sole runners or park runners and the sun tried desperately to battle the little showers that were trying to force themselves upon us.

I took the opportunity of an emergency wee. Big mistake. Richmond might be a posh place, but the park must have the stinkiest toilets in the whole of the country. I can’t back this claim up with any additional evidence, other than to say I felt utterly nauseous trying to have a pee through what smelled like the stench of month’s old stale urine. Boy, was I grateful for some fresh air. Is there a prize for best and worst parkrun toilets?

Proper runners do proper stretches. Lynda and I indulge in pretend stretching; the art of looking like you are stretching. On this day, we had the beautiful landscape to assist us. See me below, being a plank, on a log, just behind Lynda performing her stump-stand-side-stretch.

We were called into line at 9:00am prompt. There was a little bit of housekeeping and then some applause. Clapping? What for? I couldn’t hear the chap at the front, but apparently Richmond parkrun claps all the first timers running there that day. How delightfully cosmopolitan! I’d never experienced applause of such gay abandon in the provinces. Thankfully, it fell short of any American-style whooping and hollering! Cosmopolitan or not, we’re still British, you know!

The run itself was really good. The sun was shining but not too warm. I thought the path would be quite crowded, but space opened up pretty quickly as we ran down the hill, with an amazing view of the London skyline in the distance – the London Eye was clearly visible, as was that thing that looks like a bullet – I once thought it was called The Avocado, until I was told I had confused my fruit and vegetable buildings.

At the foot of the hill, a few deer contemplated what on earth 300 human beings were doing pummelling their way through trees, when they clearly thought it was a much better idea to spectate and chew the cud. For a moment I wanted to stop, as it looked like a perfect Instagram moment, before realising I was both running and not in possession of an iPhone.

The incline loomed ahead, so I just decided to put my foot down and hurtle up it. I saw my other half, Rich, poised with camera a few metres ahead, so I thought I’d start sprinting. The resulting shot is an example of how not to run! Bent at the waist and over-striding is not a good look, nor is it an efficient way of getting from A to B. Having said that, I blame the photographer for not ensuring the picture was taken with me looking at my best. No careful positioning of the subject, no ‘say cheese’.

Completed the course in 24:01 (Garmin) 24:05 (barcode time), which is some 30 seconds slower than my Eastbourne parkrun PB and about 10 seconds slower than my Eastbourne average. Finishing position of 116.

Lynda, popped round the corner about 5 minutes later, and whilst she hadn’t run to her best form this time, she still had time for a comedy photo opportunity.

What does one do after a parkrun? Some go for coffee, some go for pain au chocolat, some go and deconstruct how Turner may have interpreted the physiological vagaries of the human body in art form, whilst overlooking the River Thames. We, of course, did all three…

Other blogs:

The Eastbourne parkrun Grand National - 14 April 2012

Eastbourne parkrun 07 April 2012: The satsuma that got squeezed!

A parkrun lesson

How parkruns and bumblebees can lead to half marathon success

Eastbourne parkrun 24 March

Eastbourne parkrun 31 March 2012: How Kathy Bates sabotaged my parkrun

A parkrun lesson

by Martin Allen

Saturday morn; I topple out,
Bleary eyed, stumbling about,
'It's half past eight', the radio shouts,
I'm running late, darn it!

At the course with seconds to spare,
The starter gives a quizzical stare,
And points out that I'm standing there,
Without my running kit.

…..

'No worries Sir, you're here with friends,
You can still run and make amends,
For running here does not depend,
On having all your gear'.

'Stand over there with all the rest,
Just go out there and run your best,
But you're doing it in your pants and vest',
And he clipped me round the ear!

…..

I'm lined up ready to compete,
Feeling rather incomplete,
At least I've slippers on my feet,
To protect them from the ground.

The whistle goes and runners flee,
All of them, except for me,
I'm still fiddling with my mp3,
I didn't hear a sound.

…..

Music's done, so off I tear,
I try to float with style and flair,
My slippers flapping in the air,
I'm feeling such a loon.

I see a man ahead of me,
Shuffling as is customary,
For a man who's almost 93,
I hope to catch him soon.

…..

I near him with such manly grace,
I'm in the zone; I've picked up pace,
Then thwack - a blow straight to my face,
I fall in disarray.

Dented branch and dented pride,
Dented head with pain inside,
Why do trees always decide,
To get right in my way?

…..

Dusted down, regained my pose,
Wiped the debris from my clothes,
Two lost teeth and bloodied nose,
I'm flapping once again.

The finish line appears in sight,
Onto grass, that final flight,
Dodging dogs mess left and right,
I'm finishing like a train.

…..

I hit the line, I hit the floor,
Was it quick? I can't be sure,
But my underclothes were revealing more,
Than just my personal best!

So, next week at your parkrun place,
Wear a smile upon your face,
Though kit and shoes must always replace,
Your slippers, pants and vest.

Other blogs by me:
How parkruns and bumblebees can lead to half marathon success

Eastbourne parkrun 24 March 2012

Eastbourne parkrun course description: a runner's eye view

New Contributor - Martin Allen

You can follow me on Twitter @martinallen72