James Brown had the funk. In fact he had over 37 songs with the words funk or funky in them. Which is a lot of songs to talk about what it feels like to get stuck in a rut while training and not feel like going out.
For the last couple of weeks I’ve been struggling a bit with running. I’ve managed to keep to my long run at the weekend but my weekday runs have lagged. I don’t have my normal rush to get changed when I get home and to head out.
I’m in the funk.
I think it stems from trying to do too much in February. I had two half marathons in four weeks, the Glentress Trail and Balloch to Clydebank. In between I managed two weeks of training with no breaks for a rest, including three days of running more than an hour each night. It was too much. And I knew that at the time but, I was away for work, and one of my colleagues kept asking if I wanted to go out and I couldn’t say: “I feel a bit tired tonight”.
I’m a guy. We don’t get tired. 🙂
But, it was a bit much and has led to a couple of weeks where my motivation has put it’s feet up.
Not me, I could run for miles!
That’s the guy talking again. 🙂
So, having identified that I’m in a funk, I’ve diagnosed the only known cure. Just like James Brown, we just need to “Get Up!” when we feel the funk.
Sitting down doesn’t help anyone. Sometimes you just need to get out and try and change things. A new route. A new distance. A new time to go out. Shake things up a bit and see what happens.
In my case, I’ve tried a few flatter routes to counteract the hills I was trying to run in preparation for Glentress. Some simple routes that make me think how easy it is to go out.
My clothes are neatly folded and I’m lying face-down wearing nothing but my pants. There is an awkward silence as a pretty young girl in immaculate make-up considers the word “groin”.
It’s at this point I regret my choice of Bugs Bunny boxers. Her eyes flick down and I feel less than magnificent.
It’s not uncomfortable. This is not my first massage, but it is my first with a woman.
Normally, it’s Steve the Physio. Steve the Physio is practical. Steve the Physio doesn’t do small talk. “Groin?” he asks. And when I nod, he roughly pulls my legs apart and, before going to work, sternly tells me to “Cup the balls, and pull them back”.
Which is not a phrase I’ve ever had to use, not that it would fit any other social situation.
“Andrew, can you pass the English mustard?”
“First, cup the balls, and pull them back!”
“Andrew, do you have any spare change for the bus?”
“FIRST, cup the BALLS! And pull them back!”
“Andrew, is this extended flight of fantasy becoming increasingly laboured”
“CUP THE BALLS AND PULL THEM BACK!”
But Steve the Physio is on holiday, and last week I was presented with the slim and attractive Muriel, and the thought of asking her to work the groin is making me feel ever so uncomfortable. Not that it should. She’s a professional; I’m a customer; and this is NHS approved physiotherapy clinic not a cat-house (which is second only to a duck-house in dodgy MP expense claims).
I think of saying nothing. Saying nothing is okay during a massage. No one expects a running commentary or political discussion. Small talk is fine. In fact, anything is fine, except for “ooooooh!”, “aaaaaahhhh!” and “just a lit bit”.
But my inner thigh has tightened and, if I am to resume running, I need her fingers to work their magic. So, when she approaches, when she lays her gentle hands upon my back, and asks “According to Steve’s it’s normally your groin that’s the problem, is that right?”
I don’t say: “Yes, if by problem you mean it’s too big!”.
Instead I nod, glad that she has gotten the G word out of the way and I can relax safe in the knowledge that I’m not going to embarrass myself by making some well intended but sexually sounding overtone to this young girl. Everything is going to be okay.
Until she says “So, where should we start?”
And I say, without thinking: “Cup the balls and pull them back!”
It wasn’t a good start. I was in the back of a taxi and having to point out to the driver that he was driving away from where we need to go. “Are you sure Clydebank is not back this way”, I pointed. He took one look at the sign saying “Clydebank” behind us and said: “I don’t know that way”. I asked if he was following his satnav and he added “Never use it – it gets things wrong all the time!”.
Given I had been tracking him on an app as he approached the house and I could see he’d missed the road, done a u-turn, missed the road again, got caught in a one way system and had parked for 5 minutes in a laybay (I assume to try and work out where he was going), he maybe wasn’t one to judge others on directions. Never mind criticise the location prowess of multiple geo-stationary satellites and the software calculations of Google.
“Can you just turn round and I’ll tell you where to go?”
“We’re going the fastest way,” he said.
We weren’t.
“You won’t get there any faster,” he claimed.
We would.
“But if you insist…”
I did.
And 10 minutes later we were in Clydebank for the start of the race and not in Hamilton, which is where we would have gone because ‘that’s the way he knew!’.
On the way over, between giving directions, I could see the weather was turning. Grey clouds were turning black. A few spots of rain became a shower became a powerwash from heaven.
By the time I left the taxi, I was soaked through just spending 30 seconds looking round for Iain.
He wasn’t there.
Hardly, anyone was there.
I phoned him.
“Are you in the car park?”
“Yes!”
“No, you’re not. I’m here and I can’t see you.”
Then he asked if I was in the right car park as the race start had moved from the old sports centre to the new one.
“Errr…”
Turns out my taxi driver wasn’t the only one with no idea of where he was going…
The Balloch to Clydebank half marathon should be called the Clydebank to Balloch to Clydebank half marathon as you start in Clydebank, the finish line, by jumping on a bus which takes you to the start at Loch Lomond shores in Balloch.
This year it might also have taken you back to the start because, as we drove up, the rain turned to snow, and you could see it start to cover the pavements. When we arrived, the driver was told to wait, in case the race was cancelled.
I thought it would be cancelled. The snow was heavy and I couldn’t imagine either runners racing on it or volunteers standing outside. I didn’t think it was safe. I was wrong. And right.
I was wrong that it would be cancelled. The race went ahead but with the option for people to jump on the bus and return to the start. But I’m not sure it was safe. There’s was a lot of snow and slush on the pavements and runners moved onto the road at points to run through Bowling and Clydebank.
While the roads were quiet, there were cars and buses driving behind them and I heard a few frustrated honks from the drivers.
The race itself was a challenge to remain warm and comfortable as the weather changed from snow to rain to dry spells to rain again.
Knowing that it might rain I’d just worn shorts and not leggings. My theory is that leggings don’t help in the rain. They just get wet, then your legs get cold as leggings cool you down. You’re better off with just your hairy legs – nature’s leggings! – when it rains.
I don’t know if this is true though but for half the race I congratulated myself on my choice as the water dried from my legs during the dry spells, and the other half of the race cursing my choice as everyone else looked like they were running as a happy as runner with toasters strapped to their thighs.
You can’t call the race scenic. There’s a few nice spots, mostly at the start as we run along the canal from Balloch, but most of the race is through housing or industrial estates. It does though have the advantage of feeling like you’re running downhill as there’s very few climbs, or even gentle inclines, and there’s a few long stretches when you run downhill.
But at least the finish line is scenic. If you like skips and bins. 🙂
Bishopbriggs has a reputation as one of the best beginner friendly triathlon races in Scotland. Which is why Andrew and I decided to do our second ever triathlon here. It was 2014 and the race came 5 years after our first attempt at a triathlon https://twinbikerun.com/2017/10/23/my-first-triathlon-iain
My preparation for the race didn’t go well. I didn’t realize I had to be there early to put the bike into transition. By the time I arrived the official car park was full. I managed to get a car parking space in a side street but I didn’t write down the name of street. I wouldn’t realize until later that Bishopbriggs has allot of very similar looking side streets…
SWIM (16:09)
I’d like to say the swim went smoother than my parking but I made some rookie errors:
Mistake 1: I under estimated my swim time.
When entering the event I had to give a predicted time for the swim. I took a guess and added a couple of minutes to make sure I wasn’t in a fast lane.
My estimate was too slow! I was actually much faster than everyone else in the lane. I should have realised I wasn’t among fast swimmer when everyone else arrived wearing rubber rings and snorkels.
I’m not a fast swimmer but I’m not slow either. I should have checked my time in advance and I should have had confidence in my ability. It would have been an easier swim for me and the other in the lane if I’d been in the correct lane.
Mistake 2: I didn’t have a tri top
I was the only one in my lane without one. It was a cold wet day. When we headed outside for transition I felt every cold blast of wind and rain on my bare naked skin. I was more more Frozen than children singing “Let It Go”
I should have worn clothes appropriate for the weather condition outside and not just for the tropically warm indoor condition.
Mistake 3: Leaving clothes outside uncovered
The weather was dry when I placed them in transition but now that it had rained all my stuff was wet. I should have put a plastic water proof bag over them to keep the rain off.
My bike seat was soaking wet. If I’d put a plastic bag over it then I would have enjoyed a nice dry seat instead of a “wet Andrew” which is my code for a soaking wet arse.
Mistake 4: Safety pins!
My biggest mistake was that I’d accidentally put my safety pins through the front and back of my cycle top preventing me from getting into the top! DOH!
I had to do undo all the pins. Put the top on and then tack on the number. Ever since this I’ve used a race number belt.
BIKE (42:30)
There was quite a variety of bikes on the course from mountain bikes to hybrids to full on time trial specific machines. Maybe triathlons shouldn’t be just about age group results but about how much was spent on the bike.
But then again I saw one man on a hybrid race past a man on his time trial bike. Maybe it is actually about how hard people train!
RUN (23:21)
The run was the first time I’d ever seen a spray can used as a course feature. After running 2km I had to run round a spray can, which was placed in the middle of a path, back to the start. I remember thinking why don’t they just spray the ground instead of putting the can there?
The last km was through a muddy path but annoyingly I had on new trainers. I abandoned running quickly and instead ran cleanly as I gingerly avoided every bit of mud. That was my excuse for my slow run time.
POST RACE (1:26:47)
As I’d forgotten where the car was parked I had to spend twenty minutes on my bike, exploring the back streets of Bishopbriggs, trying to find it.
Andrew was on the phone to me. “Where are you?” he asked. I replied “I’m in the car park.” I’d agreed to meet him at the official race start – Clydebank Leisure Centre. I was parked in the car park and I thought I was quite easy to spot as it wasn’t too full of cars.
“Where in the car park? I don’t see your car.”
I looked around. I was the only car in my part of the car
park. I was very visible. “I’m the only one here. Look towards the back of the
car park.”
“I can’t see you. There’s nobody parked at the back of the
car park!” He sounded annoyed.
It suddenly dawned on me – “Are you at the old leisure centre rather than the new one?”
“There’s two lesuire centres???”
“Yes – you’ve gone to the old one! Idiot!”
The old leisure centre
The new leisure centre
It was a fair mistake to make. The race had always started at the old leisure centre. I drove over to collect him. There was a number of other runners waiting there. Which goes to show how few people read pre-race instructions as it was quite clear from the notes where to go.
The race is a point to point from the shores of Loch Lomond back to Clydebank. Clydebank is where the band Wet Wet Wet come from. It was also an apt description of the weather. The rain was hammering it down as I got changed in the car but thankfully, I had packed a Gore-Tex hat and jacket. Once I had them on it looked like I was off to climb a mountain rather than run a race.
The view from my car
To get to the start the organiser put on buses. They must have asked the bus company “How much for a bus to Balloch for 700 runners….HOW MUCH!!!…Can you do it cheaper? How much for a bus with no heating?”
The cold miserable bus ride was more of an endurance test than the race itself. Shortly after leaving Clydebank the rain turned to snow. The talk on the bus was whether the race would be cancelled. I saw one man in small shorts and sleeveless vest. I don’t know what weather forecast he’d seen that morning to be dressed so inapproriatly. He must have assumed the yellow weather warning meant “Danger – there may be sunshine!”
When we arrived a man told the bus driver not to leave as he
might be needed to take all the runners back to the start. The organisers were
consulting and would announce shortly whether the race would go ahead.
Word soon came through that the race would go ahead but anyone who wanted to go back to the start could get back on the bus. I was happy to run. It had stopped raining and it didn’t feel too cold although I was worried what the paths would be like.
Runner are a hardy bunch so quite a number did choose to start including the man from the bus who had hardly any clothes on.
The start
The first couple of miles are along a canal path. There’s not much room to pass people which is annoying as faster runners get caught behind slower ones. Which is why I was behind Andrew… honest!
There was a lot of puddles on the path due to the rain. Runners like to think of themselves as hardy souls prepared to run through rain, hail and sleet but the one thing they won’t run through is a puddle. It was amusing to watch the different techniques other runners used to avoid getting their feet wet.
Some do a swerve at the last second to avoid the puddle and other attempt a long jump to stride over it. I prefer to go straight through the first puddle I see and let my feet get wet. I then don’t have to care about avoiding puddles for the rest of the race. Its a wet race just get soaked and then get on with it!
The last few miles of the the course is normally run on pavements. The organisers very clearly state “Stick to the pavements. Do not run on the road.” But many chose to ignore this as the pavements were covered in slush. Some were running on the road with headphones on as car’s wizzed by. I’d rather get my feet wet than be hit by a car.
Race organisers should offer a email/text service were you can grass up other competitors to get them disqualified. It would be for peoples own good as they’d then learn not to so stupid things in races!
I’d ran with Andrew until the last mile. At that point he increased his pace and I couldn’t keep up. I was happy to have stuck with him until then as I was still a bit sore after falling down a hole on a bridge the previous week.
Although the start of the race has changed the end has not. It still finishes at at the old leisure center which meant a one mile plod back to the car via some of Clydebank’s most glamorous spots
Oh the glamour of running
POSTSCRIPT: I asked for a medium sized t-shirt but I didn’t try it on until I got home. The organizers must got their t shirts from the same place as they got the buses. “Hello, how much for 300 medium sized t shirts….HOW MUCH!! Do you do kids sizes? is that cheaper? I’ll take 300 kids medium sized T- shirts.”
Its the smallest medium sized t shirt I’ve ever received at a race. It barely covers my belly button. I’d like to wear it as its a smart design but I’m afraid I’d look like a 1980’s dancer from Fame!
I found my race report for IronMan UK that I’d posted on the Glasgow Triathlon Club forum and you can tell that I wrote it within a couple of days of racing because the first line is far too emphatic. And I then broke it by entering Norseman and now, this year, Challenge Roth. Oh, if only I’d listened to Wise 2015 Andrew!
Here’s the report:
Swam a bit. Rode a bit. Ran a bit. Walked a lot. Happy to finish. Will never do it again.
I just wanted to share six AMAZING tips I learnt from the race that you won’t find in Don Fink’s training guide*.
Tip 1: Crash at least once when it’s totally not your fault. I did and I promise that you’ll forget about your legs as you spend the next 20 miles daydreaming about a bike pump, the rider who crashed into you and the elaborate torture porn of the Saw films.
Tip 2: Your nose will run. It will never stop. Why not devise your own word for wiping your nose on your sleeve, arm, shoulder, any dry patch of jersey really. Snotting anyone?
Tip 3: You can leave a special needs bag to pick up during the bike course. You could leave spare gels and energy bars or, you could do what I did, and leave a cheese & ham sandwich and a packet of crisps. It may take a couple of minutes to stop and eat it but, after a constant diet of gels, bars and electrolyte drinks those few minutes were the highlight of my day. Mmmm…. Cheesy Wotsits!
Tip 4: We all run our own races. That’s true. But, secretly, in our heart of hearts, we all get a boost when we see a fat bloke struggle. (This is an equal opportunities tip – remember, for the people ahead of you, you will be their ‘fat bloke’ ).
Tip 5: Spectators will cheer you. They’ll shout “You’re doing great”, “Keep going”, “You’re running really well” etc, etc. However, sometimes, you know you’re not doing great. You’re walking. You’re crawling. You’ve given up and had a cry at the side of the road. At those times, the spectators should shout “You’re crap”, “You’ll never make it”, “The fat bloke’s beating you”. Sometimes we need a bit of humiliation and tough love from strangers. For your next Ironman, to run faster, why not wear a gimp mask?
Tip 6: Finally, a tip I’ve never read before. This must be a special tip reserved only for the most dedicated Ironmen and women. I call it “Recycling”. It works like this: at some point during the race, you’ll need to go to the toilet. When you do – why not eat a banana? You’re hands are free. You’ve got time. You’re not going anywhere. So why not put in what you’re… erm… putting out?
I’ve no other explanation for the amount of food found in the portaloos: folk are chewing and pooing – and they’re heading to Kouna! This could be you (but, please God, wash your hands, you’re an athlete, not an animal!).
*tips not found in Don Fink’s book for good reason!
At the weekend, I went Stand Up Paddle Boarding at North Third reservoir near Stirling . The reservoir is strangely named as I can find no record of a North First or North Second reservoir. Maybe this one was third time lucky after the other two failed.
The reservoir is a great spot for swimming, paddle boarding and walking. The reservoir has high cliffs on one side, which form a dramatic backdrop. The surrounding area is forested with bike and walking trails. It’s a nature lovers paradise but it’s also a paradise for lovers of a different kind…
My favorite bit of the story is his very British excuse – “I can’t possibly be having sex with men. My wife made me sandwiches!”
I don’t think I helped the reservoir’s reputation. A van of men pulled up at the car park just after I’d got changed. The looked at me like I was a weirdo. I can’t think why…
Dressed like the Gimp from Pulp Fiction!
If you look closely at the start of this video you’ll notice a bridge across a river.
I decided to stand on the bridge to get a photo. Unfortunately the entrance to the bridge was blocked off. There was a sign on it that read “Condemned – do not cross.” I thought about it for a second and then decided to ignore it. Whats the worst that could happen?
The bridge had slats missing so I had to be careful as I walked across to not fall through the gaps. I reached the half way point successfully. I took a photo, turned around and took a step forward. I’d forgotten to look where I was going. My foot landed in one of the gaps in the bridge and my leg fell through it!
I took a hefty knock to my thigh but as I fell I did have the wherewithall to place my camera down gently on a slat rather than see it fall into the river. I was impressed with my quick thinking to save the expensive item but annoyed by how stupid I’d been!
As I lay on the bridge with one leg stuck through it all I could think about was the bridge scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
I managed to get back to my feet and thankfully was able to get out on the board. The only thing hurt was my pride. I managed to SUP round one of the reservoir’s islands and I’d highly recommend it as a SUP’ing spot. Just remember to bring sandwiches.
Twin brothers swimming, cycling and running in Scotland 