Is this lazy or efficient? It feels like a round up programme, hopefully more Transworld Sport than ITV’s Premiership. Life is hectic, the blog gets done when time allows, in this case, on a lounger as you enjoy your honeymoon and your new hobby of avoiding the Italian sunshine (more on that in the next update).
Anyhow, July. What happened in July…..
Leicester Victoria parkrun
With Woody and I due in Leicester on the Saturday for some Women’s World Cup action, in my mind it was logical to get a parkrun in. Georgia and I had completed Braunstone earlier in the year, so Leicester Victoria would be the destination. Unless traffic was funky, in which case we had anything along the A14 as a backup option.
Early Saturday morning traffic was actually a breeze (I had a hote booked but decided a night at home was preferable), so we arrived straight from home at the university site. The only slight issue was a near two hour drive leaving me in need of the toilet, couldn’t locate one at the park!
So Woody was on cheering duty, I would be trying to combine running and crossing my legs for 5km. I’d not really researched beforehand (hence not finding a toilet), all I knew was it was a multi lapped affair. We started downhill, did an elaborate U turn, then three laps of the park that included a long down and then a long up. My pace was on par with everything I’ve done recently, starting slow and then gradually getting a bit faster. Many were using the downhill to build up speed, that has rarely been my way. Instead I found myself clawing back places on the climb, a far nicer scenario.
The intricacies of a multi lap urban park course meant that the Garmin was reading short, that’s gps and tight turns! It did at least mean that I got to the finish line slightly earlier than expected. A stronger final lap had brought me home just shy of 30 minutes. A nice parkrun, nice venue and a good way to start the day. Job done it was time to find some breakfast and an all too important toilet!
India vs South Africa
Once Woody had visited the golden arches we drove back into Leicester to find Grace Road. As is typical of county grounds, it was hidden within some tightly packed residential roads, so I found one without restrictions, parked up the tank and we wandered in.
Already noticeable were the Cricketeers, the volunteers on hand to make the day for spectators. I’d actually applied to be one, but once I secured a new job I felt it was something to be parked for now, perhaps in 2019 when the men’s World Cup takes place. There was a friendly atmosphere, we were encouraged to support South Africa as there was a definite advantage to India in terms of support.
We stuck with being neutral and picked some seats to take in the first part of play. Though we’d arrived half an hour late, our timing was perfect as Lizelle Lee had merely spent that time warming up. Upon arrival her score was 17. Soon she’d scored 90 odd in a display of power hitting that was symbolic of the tournament. Lee was taking South Africa to a competitive score, although in the middle overs there was a stutter, captain Van Nierkirk steadied the ship with an authoritative innings.
Given South Africa we’re definite second favourites for the game, posting 273 was imposing.
That said, India had scored more against England and had some gun batters. After all, they had Mandhana and Raj, one at the start of their career, the other captaining the team in her final World Cup.
And much like in 2015 when I traveled to Canterbury to watch Meg Lanning bat, they were both dismissed cheaply! Raj with a first ball duck as the leg spin of captain Van Nierkirk ripped through the Indian top order.
Runs on the board were a prize commodity and India never threatened to chase them down. A huge win for an emerging South Africa, something the game needed given the meek performance of the West Indies during the tournament.
A good day at the cricket. One that was very affordable as ticked had been priced very sensibly (Woody as a junior was just £2). The fan zone was decent, a few games to play for the kids during play or the interval. Strangely no World Cup or team merchandise was available though.
Stevenage parkrun
So I think there might have been some running midweek. Apparently I got out early one morning and rediscovered my stansted loop. There was even a bit of swimming as a work trip to Liverpool afforded me a hotel with a pool.
Saturday would be a second week of parkrun tourism in a row. I had some parkrun business to attend to after the run, so our original plans for Billeracy were shelved for a drive west and a visit (finally) to Stevenage parkrun.
Holly had competed in cross country at the southern part of the park so we knew roughly where to head to, even if the official postcode took us in the wrong direction. Once Georgia got us back on track we found parking with ease and had time to use the facilities before wandering on to the start area.
Running makes the world smaller, at the start we found ourselves chatting to Kelly, a junior school friend of mine and her husband Chris, they were up in town visiting family and dropped in on parkrun (sorry for boring you with tourism suggestions!!!). Also at the event was Danik Bates from IG and I got a here at the end from Greg, another running IGer.
Georgia and I had no idea how the run would go, we knew it was two laps that was mainly flat and a hill at the end (a Herts speciality). The first kilometre was fairly par for the course, slow mid 6 pace. This was likely going to be a long 32 minute slog.
Then George put the hammer down and blitzed the second kilometre. We’re talking a minute quicker. It was hard work just trying to stay in contact with her, wasn’t until well after 2km that I actually pulled level. This was either brave or ludicrous pacing, Fergie likes to call it suicide pace.
It would be fair to say that Georgia paid for that pace, tailing off through the second lap, but still finishing sub 30, which suggest that maybe she paced it just fine. Me? Something weird happened. After the hellacious second kilometre I got quicker by a further 15 seconds. The fourth saw me temper the pace a bit, back to 5:46, but instead of floundering, my final kilometre got quicker again, including taking on the hill at the finish and kicking for a sprint. Weird. 28:42. Maybe there is still some speed hidden under the layers of insulation.
As for Stevenage? A nice two lap course on tarmac paths with an occasional bit of grass. A friendly crowd and a decent atmosphere, precisely what you’d want from a parkrun.
Hatfield Forest parkrun
Not much occurred in the week that followed in terms of running. Plenty of running admin, but work plans meant my windows for running were fairly minimal.
I found myself back at the forest on Saturday and donning the Run Director vest once more. It was a poignant day as we said goodbye to a regular at the forest. Being a ED isn’t always fun and games, sometimes real life isn’t like that. Instead we had an opportunity to reflect and share the forest with friends and family.
The run itself went far too well. In fact, potentially too well as I was almost home by the time I’d received a message that the token sorters had been left at the forest but had handed the finish tokens to another runner who lived near us. Ooops!!!!!
One day I’ll have a parkrunday where I don’t forget something important. But then again, that’s very unlikely and part of the fun.
Women’s World Cup Final
Lords. The home of cricket. Yet not the home of the first cricket world cup final. In 1973 the women’s world cup final had to be played at Edgbaston as lords was not approving. Thankfully times have moved on and a near full house of 25,000 people would get to watch the 2017 final at Lord’s.
I’d first visited in 1993, dad took me to watch an inevitable thrashing by the Australians, made even worse by Mike Gatting (or who I was soon to know as Fat Gat for reasons that will be obvious) turned down an easy second run to leave Mike Atherton slipping and stranded, run out for 99. Despite being a Middlesex player, there wasn’t a huge amount of affection for Gatting in the aftermath.
Over the years I’d paid the ground many visits, though more for shorter format or county games as the pricing structure made for an increasingly expensive day out.
So when world cup final tickets went on sale at £20 an adult, £5 a child, after a quick check of the calendar I’d picked up 5 to enable a family day out. Not that I was thanked for this, Woody aside, there wasn’t much interest in a day at the home of cricket. Georgia’s not a fan of cricket, or the MCC as an institution, Callum wanted to know if we could pop to Pineapple Dance Studios and Holly was more in tune with the sports of a good comrade; gymnastics, athletics, ice hockey. Georgia could at least be placated with the bottle of wine policy at Lord’s. It turns out Holly grew more in tune with the game and Callum at least had some podcasts.
The game itself was hard work. What wasn’t clear to the natural eye was that after a tournament of high scores and easy batting pitches, the Lord’s ground staff had prepared a slow, low, tough to score pitch. England never really convinced with the bat. Would 220 be enough?
Despite a couple of early wickets, the Indian batters were suggesting that the total was very much in reach, more a case of when, rather than if they’ll chase them down. Woody was hoping that my pessimism was misplaced, willing something, anything to go the way of a rather flat English team.
Then, India decided it might be time to grasp defeat from the jaws of victory. The run rate was in hand, yet an errant slog sweep found a fielder in the deep rather than the boundary. Still, only three down with too few runs, I tried to tell Woody this was a consolation wicket. Although his first Lords visit, he was old enough to get to know just how mediocre the life of an English cricket fan can be.
A surprise bowling change. Anya Shrubsole hadn’t had a great world cup. Yet here she was with ball in hand from the empty members end (a sad indictment on the MCC).
The next half hour was a bit of a whirlwind. Even Callum was paying attention as tension gripped St John’s Wood. Every run was vital, even with wickets falling the Indians were a couple of lusty blows away from claiming a world cup trophy. A stumping appeal that was closer than a kittens whisper, one batter standing tall, looking in command, biffing one up in the air and perishing.
Penultimate over, we’re down to a single wicket remaining, runs needing in single figures as well though. Shrubsole, she of the disappointing world cup was on fire, 5 wickets to her name already. Charging in, the ball is lifted, straight to mid off. In the context of the professional game, a dolly. Underneath, Jenny Gunn, England’s veteran who’s hauled them back into many games in this tournament. The game was won.
Lords was already celebrating as the ball entered Gunn’s hands, only to recoil as the ball slipped from her grasp and onto the hallowed turf.
That was the game. In the finite margins between success and failure that was England’s chance, the world cup grassed.
Only no one had briefed Shrubsole. She ran in once more and adopted the you miss, I hit method that has troubled many a tailender (and many a Holt).
The stumps lit up in red, the game was won and a partisan Lord’s crowd rejoiced. Indians were consoled, English were rejoicing, the occasional Australian, with final tickets they couldn’t re-home were even more disappointed.
An incredible finish to the game, the tournament getting a final to match the excellent cricket played throughout. Every child could claim a Gray Nicholls bat and ball set as they left the stadium, a perfect way to capitalise on the crowd that had the most children in it that I’d seen. After all the scepticism, a great day out!
About time to bank some miles
Running. Back to the running. This alleged half marathon is still taking place in August and with a honeymoon in between, time was running out to achieve any meaningful training.
I headed out for a Monday morning 5km, then Georgia joined me for a run from Stansted to Stortford on a far too warm Tuesday evening. That run totalled 11km, but was stop start at times, I’m unconvinced it’ll be much help to me in Dublin.
Hatfield Forest parkrun again
I had a plan though. I’ll run to the forest on Saturday, then parkrun, that’ll give me a nice 15km to bank. Perfect.
Only life doesn’t always allow for things to be perfect. A 0325 alarm call on Friday being an example. In truth, it was the perfect working day. In and out of Paris with a colleague, working with one of our European colleagues to hold a customer workshop and demo. A really enjoyable day, just an early start, from Luton.
So once I’d battled back east to home, it was already close to 8pm. We were having drinks with our neighbours as it was the first available evening for both of us. Somehow the red wine didn’t have a sedative effect and it wasn’t until early Saturday morning that we were tucked up in bed.
That run to the forest didn’t happen, hardly a surprise given the 21 hour day and requirement for sleep. You have to listen to your body, mine was quietly advocating for sleep.
Even by the time we arrived at the forest, my state was still zombie like, Georgia comparing it to being drunk! Apparently I ran a 30:23, largely in a daze, hidden behind sunglasses.
A nap was enjoyed, by 5pm I almost resembled a functional human being! I tried to reclaim some miles with a 7km on Sunday morning, but my overriding tiredness meant that this effort wasn’t much to write home about.
Four runs for the week though, I’ve rarely been that active this year.
Box Update
As we close out a month in the new house, the level of cardboard is starting to reduce. Items are becoming unpacked and organised, or rehomed for charity. Three houses into one really has taken even more of a slant as this house is markedly smaller than our rental property.
The one key difference is that it actually feels like home. We’re not on edge, concerned at scratching floors, aware that we’re very much in someone’s house. Instead we have a home and everyone is starting to settle. There are plenty of things to do, but nothing that won’t wait until time affords us.
The Eat
I tried to make Millionaire’s Shortbread for the first time in years. My last attempt wasn’t great. I hadn’t shown patience (surprisingly) and hadn’t cooked the caramel sufficiently. It never set, meaning that it was never really stable enough to eat as a slice, you needed the dish and a spoon.
The 2017 edition, I was pretty happy with it. A decent slab certainly made me chatty on morning conference calls!
The Conclusion
A good month, even if I’ve not got the distance in that I’ll have liked. I am at least running more, being more active. Any month when you get to see a couple of new parkrun venues is always good, the Event Director in me uses these visits to refresh and take on new ideas.
Run for the Eat 