It tricky to know what to do when you wake up in the morning in your flat, walk downstairs and find your ground floor neighbour has added a swastika to their front door. I can understand adding a nameplate or perhaps a seasonal wreath but a symbol of Nazi power is a different matter entirely. Of course, it could have been the Indian symbol of peace but, when confronted with a swastika, my first thought is not to think these people mean well. Especially not when it was drawn on the door in blood.

What was worse, being British, I would have just ignored it and hoped it would go away by the time I got home from work. However we had people coming later that day for a second viewing of our flat. The first people to do so in five years. We’d be trying to sell it through the post 2008 recession and had it on the market twice. This was the first couple who’d not dismissed it after one viewing. We could not have them see a swastika as soon as they walked in. 

“What’s that?” they’d say while pointing to it.

“Indian symbol of peace?” I’d suggest while they make their excuses and leave.

I needed to do something. But what? I thought of knocking on their door and asking if they would remove the swastika themselves. But then I thought what if it was a genuine Indian symbol of peace. Would this be like asking a Catholic to remove their cross? Perhaps I should check first: I could say, “Is this symbol more ethnic or ethnic cleansing? 

And what if they said it was ethnic? Could I then ask them to remove it? I’m not sure I could, it would be culturally insensitive. So, I did what anyone would do in the circumstance. I grabbed a paint pot, a brush and decided to paint their door. Luckily, their door was white and I had white paint as otherwise they would open it and say:

“Can’t wait to see the swastika we created last night! If we just open this door we’ll see – what a minute, where’s the swastika? Where’s my blood? Was it this door we used? Don’t tell me, we got the wrong door. Check the kitchen! And, wait, was our door white?!”

It only takes me a couple of minutes to paint the door. The whole time I’m doing it I’m worried they’ll open the door and I’ll have to explain why they’re interrupting me mid-stroke. A mid-stroke interruption only slightly less embarrassing by your mum catching you mid-horniness. 

“What are you doing?” They’d say.

And I then have to explain we had a flat viewer coming and I’ve already said how embarrassing that would be – having to talk to my neighbour. But now I’m doing so while carrying out some guerrilla DIY.

“Just giving the hall a lick of paint,” I’d say, and then I’d have to paint the whole hallway and every door to keep up the pretence that I wasn’t just trying to erase their swastika. 

“Also,” I’d add, “it’s because of the symbol.”

“The swastika?” They’d ask, because if you’re going to paint a swastika in blood on your own door then I imagine they’d be pretty up front about it. It’s not the move of someone who’s shy and quiet.

“Yes, the Indian peace symbol,” I’d suggest because I’d want to give them a way out of the conversation.

And they’d say “Heil, Hitler,” while saluting. 

And I’d say, “Heil, Hitler,” just to be polite. 

Then the two of us would probably paint another swastika because I’d be too afraid to mention the first one again. Except this time they use my blood because they still feel a bit faint from yesterday’s swastika.

That’s the thing about daubing hate graffiti onto porous surfaces, you need a lot of liquid to leave a mark, which is something they don’t teach you in the Hitler Youth camps, it’s all marching and saluting and very little about basic decorating.

Luckily, the door didn’t open and I was able to make it all white while trying not think of the irony of that while erasing a symbol of white power.

If I had been caught, I suspect that my neighbours would have not thought I was a mutual admirer of the Fuhrer. Instead they would probably have thought I was Jewish. Many do. It’s because I have a big nose. Which sounds racist. I’m saying that people think I’m Jewish because I have a big nose. Which suggests I think Jewish people have a big nose. But I’m not the one making the comparison. It’s the people thinking I’m Jewish because of the nose. They’re the racist ones. Especially the Jews. 

(I’d better explain that comment quickly!)

I was on holiday before lockdown when a group of Hassidic Jews approached me. We were queuing for a tourist attraction with Asian tourists in masks, a few black families and a number of Hassidic Jews. We thought nothing of them until they came over and said “Shalon, brother!” and then tried to talk to me as if I was part of their tour group. I wasn’t. But my nose made them think I was. Racists!

It wasn’t the first time either, at work, a senior partner would always ask me for directions to the Jewish cemetery or if I knew how to get to various synagogues. Again, I’m not Jewish, but my nose is or at least people think it is – and think I am! – until they catch me with a paint pot in front of a door with a recently daubed swastika.

Celman Solo Point Five

No long distance races for me this year. Not that there were any in 2020 or 2021 but I did train for Celtman in both those years and would have taken part in them then if it wasn’t for that pesky COVID closing swimming pools. This year I don’t want to commit to that level of training again so have picked a middle distance race as my main race this year. Even better, it’s a middle distance version of Celtman with the added benefit of a bike route that takes in the famous Beach Na Ba climb. I’m really looking forward to this one.

Cairngorm Ultra Trail

A departure and a long shot. I’ve entered an ultra race along with a friend from work. I don’t know how this one will go and whether I’ll even enjoy training for it. But it’s good to try and challenge yourself with races you’ve never attempted before.

Others

Race Report: Kirkintilloch 12.5k 2022 (Andrew)Kirkintilloch 12.5k

Bucklyvie 10k

Loch Leven Half Marathon

And, when (and if they open for entries this year): the Hebridean Triathlon and the Forth Road Bridge 10k.

In 2002, ex-fireman Lloyd Scott took over five days to complete the London Marathon wearing a deep sea diving suit weighing an incredible 130lbs. I used to think he was crazy for taking on the marathon while dressed like a submarine but, after running the Kirkintilloch 12.5k on Sunday 13 February 2022, I’m just jealous.  I wish I I’d worn a diving suit while running through some of the puddles/newly formed lochs on the course.  The race was held in Marti Pellow weather: wet, wet, wet.

About the race:

The Kirkintilooch 12.5k is a hilly loop around the northern edge of Kirkintilloch. It’s held on quiet country roads except for one small section through a housing estate. Even though the roads are open, it feels like a closed road race, you only see a handful of cars.

This year was the fifteenth anniversary of the race, though only the 14^th time it’s been held. That’s what a global pandemic does to anniversaries – it makes years disappear. The race number were also confused. The numbers had “2020” printed on them. So, the 15th anniversary was the 14th race run under the banner of 2020 in 2022.

About the course: 

The course is a loop with a challenging up and down profile of 12 hills in 12 kms.  You can find out more about the route here from our previous reports: here, here and here. 

How was it?

Did I mention it was wet? 

The problem with 12 hills is that you also have 12 ‘valleys’ and those valleys quickly filled with puddles so deep they could have been French philosophers. The rain didn’t stop, the water flowed down every hill and it was difficult to avoid the thought that there must be better ways to spend a Sunday morning than running outside in Kirkintilloch: maybe diving into a pit of snakes or brushing your teeth with a brillo pad or running a marathon while wearing a diving suit… all would be better options.

The other side to the rain was the cold that starts to seep through your body unless you keep your legs and arms pumping. All my fastest times in races have happened while it’s been raining. I think rain makes you run faster. Usain Bolt may have run the fastest time ever for the 100 metres but I bet you that Noah was a pretty decent sprinter too when the rain started to fall.

Should I run it?

Absolutely. It’s a great race, very well organised and, most years, relatively dry. But if it does rain then just bring your flippers and a snorkel.

Hello Western Samoa!!!!

We had one reader of one article on one day of the blog from one of the smallest countries of the world. All I can say is that I hope you found the review of the White Loch in Newton Mearns useful as you contemplated the c20,000 mile round trip it would take to get there. Good luck – and welcome!

For everyone else, we had another successful year of the blog with more readers, more views and more jokes that ever (regular readers may disagree). Thank you very much for reading, it means a lot that anyone would read any of our posts. That nearly 20,000 people read this last year is amazing as that’s almost 1 in 10 of the population of Western Samoa!

Some might say that the ’31 day challenge’ was to read every daily blog I wrote throughout January. I would say that’s not a challenge, that would be the ’31 day pleasure’! However, if you don’t have time to read all 31 blogs then here’s what I learned after 31 days of running, cycling and swimming.

• You need luck: Whether it’s avoiding injury, illness or getting pinged to self-isolate because you met someone with COVID, it’s very difficult to do anything for any length of time without a bit of luck that conditions will be favourable. I was lucky because I didn’t get ill until day 32, the day after the challenge was over. I had a couple of days with a heavy cold. I could probably have continued through it, but it wouldn’t have been good for me. Instead, I had 31 clear days.
• You need a plan: Life gets in the way of doing something everyday. Most weeks I knew which days would be difficult: whether through work, travel, family or other commitments. For those days you need a plan in advance and you need to stick to it. You can’t think, like I did, that time will suddenly make itself free. that way leads to exercising at 9:30 at night and trying not to do too much so that you can still sleep at 11.
• You need to think about the start: I didn’t. I started on the first of January but hadn’t thought that I should maybe have rested on the 31st December (or the 30th or 29th…). Tyson Fury doesn’t box for an hour before he enters the ring, he has a happy meal and a milkshake (probably!). So should you.
• You need to make it tough enough to be a challenge: I aimed to run or cycle for at least 30 minutes and to swim for at least 15 minutes. Over the month I averaged one hour a day (though that included some commuting time). That felt enough for me. Just long enough to make it a challenge, not so long it became a chore each day. However, everyone is different, and you should set a time that works best for you.
• You will push yourself in unexpected ways: You will end up running when the weather is crap, cycling indoors when you’d rather watch TV and getting to the swimming pool when you wouldn’t even have got out of bed. The challenge does make you think about how much time you have each day to swim, run and cycle and that it’s possible to fit this in without sacrificing anything else.
• You will get fitter: By the end I improved both my lap times for swimming and my average speed for running. Consistant training does work except…
• You won’t get slimmer: But that may just be the cake! By the end I was the same weight as when I started. Maybe 31 days without a Mars Bar would be a better challenge?
• You will be tired at the end: I was happy to finish!

What the biggest thing I’ve learned from the challenge? Probably that it’s possible to do some form of exercise each day and still get the benefit of a rest day. A swim, an easy cycle or gentle jog can be just as relaxing as doing nothing. I bet no one else in the world knows this so I hereby can confirm that I have invented a new form of exercise! I shall call it ‘Active Recovery’. No one has thought of that before!

Now, how do I claim my Nobel Prize for Science for inventing it?