February month in review

I’ve had a pretty hectic last couple of weeks so I’ve failed in the target I set myself of updating this blog once a week. Boo!

But on the plus side, I have managed to arrange a work quiz for my sponsorship effort. Hooray!  

I’ve also been busy making the news. Well, sort of, much in the same way as the other 35,000 marathon runners I expect...

Anyway, less of that and more of this, here’s how February panned out in the world of Wood:

Miles run in the last month = 180

I’ve got to say that I’m amazed how well February has gone, especially considering I entered it with only one working knee. I’m still getting occasional pain in the knee, but it’s manageable (at the moment).  My total of 180 miles is a full 60 miles further than I’ve run in a month which is a pretty good achievement, especially when you add in that a) it has snowed quite a lot, b) it has been absolutely freezing and c) it’s a short month.

The only slight negative is that I missed losing my ‘50-miles-in-a-week’ virginity by a tantalising 0.3 of a mile. Oh well, no need to be picky.

On a more positive note I’ve slipped nicely through the gears and have stepped up from 14, 16 and 18 to a long run of 20 miles last Sunday.  I wouldn’t say it was anything other than hard work, but I made it, and that’s the main thing at this stage.   

Time spent running = 25 hours and 18 minutes

Stating the bleedin’ obvious, that’s a whole day of February gone missing. So it’s a pretty good job it’s a leap year really…

Pre-6am starts in the name of running = 13

That’s almost a one-in-every-two performance. So it’s not entirely surprising that quite a few people have commented that I look knackered recently. That’ll explain it then.

I surpassed even my own stupidity yesterday having woken at 4am. I tried to get back to sleep but couldn’t, so read a book from 4.30 – 5, then got the super early train to Finsbury Park. A 6 mile run later and I was showered and changed and ready to start work at 8am.

Night’s out sacrificed = 0

I probably had a few more night’s out than your average marathon runner last month. But then it was my birthday, so that accounted for a couple of them.

I also had my mate Skinny down for a night out in Hitchin – it was sorely needed after watching Bristol City get thumped 3-0 in a relegation six-pointer with Peterborough. I think I wrote back in December that I was missing out on the McInnes revolution. Not any more I’m not, because the revolution has turned into that phenomenon that I’m much more accustomed to. Namely the false dawn.    

Some of the things I’ve learnt this month:

- The wonderful world of the web, part two. I had a look at the search terms that people who have found my blog had used (I do work in marketing so these things interest me, sad I know). I imagine the person who searched for ‘scout motto dib dob’ probably didn’t get what they bargained for when they found my 'Dib dib dib, dob dob dob' story’… The blog ranks 8^th on Google for that term, if you’re interested. 

- The importance of brushing your hair.  One of the benefits of marathon training is that you inevitably shape up a bit. But the weirdest thing has happened to me in the past 10 days. Since I started brushing my hair (for the first time in over 20 years, I might add) I have had at least 8 people say that I look like I’ve lost weight. No-one said it before I brushed my hair, but they’ve all said it since. So maybe that’s where I’ve been going wrong all of these years – if I knew all it took was a brush, I’d have done it ages ago.

- Continuing along that theme, one such conversation led to a very funny comment. Shortly after saying that I’d lost weight, one of my mates quickly followed up with his next question - ‘you’re not ill are you?’

- The Russians are still lapping it up 

- I can actually run 20 miles without needing to lie down

This coming Sunday sees me off to Berkhamsted to do the half marathon. The race starts and finishes at Berkhamsted Cricket Club so if previous appearances there are anything to go by I’m in for a shocker.  It’s an unlucky ground from a team and personal point of view as I can’t ever remember winning there or scoring more than 25! I guess we’ll see if I can break the mould this weekend…

The scene of many a poor performance from 'Fosters & Wood

The thank you for good deeds to Ben Wood section

Lots of very nice people have sponsored me this month, so in no particular order I’d like to say thank you to…  

Paul, Phil, Matt, Spamfox (nice comment), Scott and Alex (not so nice comment Alex!), Nicola, Louise, Mr & Mrs Ritson-Watson Pie, Geoff, Chas, Chris, Brackers, Andrew, Hassiba, Fish (who I remember skippered one of the huge defeats at Berkhamsted), Joe (played in a few losses at Berkhamsted), Naomi (watched a few losses at Berkhamsted) and Anthony (gave me out lbw in our most recent loss to Berkhamsted!). Fair’s fair, I was out though…

Thank you to each and every one of you, I really appreciate your kind gestures and support.  

I’ll let you know whether I finally crack the Berkhamsted jinx next week…

And I’m telling you this because…

I’m running the 2012 London Marathon for the Hertfordshire Community Foundation (HCF). 

Whilst many of you may not have heard of them, they actually provide help to many of the bigger charities that you are more familiar with, just on a local Hertfordshire scale. For example, they recently donated £2,000 to the Hertfordshire MS Therapy Centre to help cover the costs of the transport scheme that allows those with MS to get to the centre.  

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/BenWood2 

Nightswimming, walls and snow – a recipe for disaster

My recent posts have been reasonably serious and about running so I thought I’d lighten the mood a bit this week. I mentioned a few posts back that I’m incredibly injury prone and that I have some cracking stories (quite literally) about mishaps when I was younger.  

Given it has been snowing a lot recently I’ve included two below that are related to the piste. And that’s not including the highlight of last weekend’s run – namely being chased up a road by a dog, which then jumped up at me so many times I slipped over on the ice and bashed my bad knee. Anyway, the snow-related ones are a bit later on. First up is the now infamous accident which explains how my nickname from certain friends changed overnight from ‘Woody’ to ‘One-eye’.

Nightswimming, deserves a quiet night

Picture the scene. I was 17 years old and had just played my second game of senior men’s football. We’d won 2-1 and I’d set them both up, playing right-mid in those days. After the game we all decamped to the bar where they awarded me the man of the match award. Unfortunately for me, the man of the match award consisted of a killer pint (lager, cider, spirits etc) and I was hoisted up onto a chair to down it. As a new club member, I was only too keen to oblige.

The night was still young, we had a few more, and then a group of us headed into town where we carried on drinking with some friends. I met my girlfriend at the time a bit later and at closing decided that rather than stick her in a taxi, I’d walk her home despite being in no fit state to do so. We stopped at a bridge over the canal where we always used to hang out, and all seemed well in the world...

It was at about this point that I drunkenly fell straight over the railings on the bridge and went face first into the canal. About an eight foot drop. I sort of put my hands out, but with barely a foot of water and plenty of rocks on the canal bed, it was a pretty futile gesture and it was my face that broke the fall. Or to be more precise, my left eye. Before I’d even scrabbled around to get to my feet, my eye was completely shut, swelled up to the size of an apple, and pouring out with blood.

Eventually I managed to drag myself out of the water and up the grass bank. Fortunately my mate’s Skinny and Ebod live not 50 yards from the bridge so I staggered to their house and rang the doorbell. Imagine their dad Paul’s surprise when he answered it, at about midnight, to the sight of me looking like I’d been attacked, eye completely closed, covered in blood and soaked to the bone. I still refute it this to this day, but Paul always tells the story that my only words to him were ‘I feel ill’!  

I fell straight over the green railings head-first into the canal...

I spent the next four days in hospital waiting for the swelling to go down before they could even touch it to see the extent of the damage. I was told I was having a general anaesthetic which calmed the nerves, but as I was rolled into theatre I was told it was going to be a local as they needed me to tell them what I could see.

As they stuck a four inch needle straight into the corner of my swollen eye, the nurse noticed from my wrist tag that her sister was my next door neighbour. She kindly tried to take my mind off of it by asking if my cat Charlie was still rogering her cat. I can’t remember exactly what my answer was, but as much as I loved Charlie, he really wasn’t top of my thoughts at that precise moment. I can safely say that the needle into a red-raw eye was the most painful experience I’ve ever had – but when they opened the eye up was definitely the scariest. My good eye was staring straight up at the theatre lights, whereas my bad one was limply looking straight down across my chest. Not ideal, and a slight realisation that it was obviously pretty serious. 

I could go on for hours about that story, as I haven’t even mentioned the operation to put it right again. But in the interests of time, the upshot of it was that:

a)     I had to have 17 stitches in and around my eye

b)    I had to have an operation to insert a plastic bone underneath my eye to replace the one I’d shattered when I landed on it

c)     I spent the next two years having blurred vision out of the extremes of my left eye, whilst the two were trying to get in sync again

d)    I couldn’t play football or drive for a couple of years either (no more man of the match awards)

e)     I couldn’t walk into the Lock Keepers pub in Stroud for years without someone putting on Nightswimming by REM

Now it’s at about this point that I should be telling you how I learnt from my mistakes, and that I realised I wasn’t infallible, but unfortunately that isn’t the case with teenage boys...

Going out with a bang, literally

Having spent the best part of four months of the final year of my A-Levels in and out of hospital with my dodgy eye, I wanted to make sure I enjoyed the last day of Sixth Form. As is the tradition, everyone went for a few lunchtime beers with the teachers at the local pub. When that had finished, we did a pub crawl into town before ending up in The Retreat. After a lovely night with the friends we all promised to keep in touch with (obviously!), I walked out of the pub with my mate Toby. And that is as much as I can remember for the next ten minutes. Why I hear you ask?

Let’s just say that The Retreat has a nice Cotswold stone wall directly opposite, and that in my inebriated state I may have tripped down the step and fallen head-first into it. When I came around, I had a blanket over me and everyone from the pub was staring out of the windows to see if I was ok. The ambulance came but I thought I would be in too much trouble from another trip to hospital, so I managed to convince them I was ok by reciting the menu of the local kebab house. Not content with calling it a night after my encounter with the wall, I then went on to a party.

My abiding memory of that story was turning up at cricket the next day with a headache that I’ve never experienced the like of before or ever since. And, I am also ashamed to say, to this day I never told my parents about this as I was worried about how much trouble I would be in! As they’re reading this, they obviously will now though, so sorry Mum!

The kamikaze run

About a year after these two incidents, it snowed heavily in Stroud. And there are few better times to live in the Five Valleys than when you’re an adrenaline fuelled teenager surrounded with snow and too many hills to know what to do with. So we made our way up to Rodborough Common to have a bash at a bit of sledging.

Rodborough Common is pretty steep by most people’s standards. Which is why every other punter was enjoying themselves going down the main bit which is plenty steep enough. But for a teenager and his friends, the main bit was, well, what can we say, a ‘bit soft’. So we moved away from the crowd and decided to go down what I would term as the kamikaze bit.

When it came to my turn, I hopped on without batting an eyelid. I proceeded to fly down the hill and everything was going brilliantly until I got a bit too close to the road at the bottom. I just about managed to bail off of the sledge in time, but the momentum of flying down the hill at breakneck speed meant I couldn’t stop before the 5ft drop onto the hard, concrete road below. Fortunately I managed to protect my head, but my shoulder took the brunt of the fall. I gingerly got to my feet to the sound of laughing and cheering at the top of the slope.

My initial thought was ‘that hurts’, but after shouting for some help that wasn’t forthcoming, I couldn’t do anything other than head back up the slope to my friends. And as I trudged back up, I didn’t know what was worse – the pain of carrying the sledge or that it was impossible to maintain balance, so I had to break my fall with my other arm once every 10 seconds or so. After copping a load of flak for not hurrying up, I got no sympathy whatsoever and was given yet more abuse for wimping out of having another go.  It wasn’t until I showed the x-ray of my shattered collarbone in the pub a day later that my reputation was restored.

Was für eine schöne Aussicht (What a lovely view)

Unfortunately my relationship with the snow hasn’t got any better with age. I went snowboarding with my mate Scott in 2004. I remember it well because I was in training for the marathon at the time.

We arrived at Alpe D’Huez and immediately went out for a few liveners. Those few liveners ended up in a nightclub until 3am so when we got up the next morning I was feeling a wee bit hungover. Having missed the chance to book lessons (I’d never been before) Scott managed to convince me that if I jumped on the lift with him and his mates I’d be alright. So against my better judgement I foolishly agreed.

We got to the chair lift and Scott jumped on with his mates – there wasn’t room for me so I got on the next one with a lovely German couple.  I wasn’t paying any attention as I was admiring the scenery and getting some nice air in to my lungs to clear my head. So when I came to get off, I noticed Scott gesticulating wildly but I didn’t know what about. I had both feet facing directly forward, as you would if you didn’t have a snowboard attached to your leg. Ouch! I felt the snap as my ankle buckled all around me.

I thought it couldn’t be that bad, so I tried it anyway but I couldn’t control the board as I was in agony. As I said, I’d never been snowboarding before so with Scott and his mates long gone, I spotted a ski-lift in the distance and thought that was my best route down. I limped off towards it and was soon waist deep in snow having moved off of the main run. I persevered which took ages, but finally felt relieved when I got there. Relieved until I asked and found out it was going to the neighbouring village, rather than Alpe D’Huez. So I had to turn around and wade back through the snow, each step making it ten times worse before getting back to the chair lift and heading down the mountain.

Being a bloke, I thought I’d buy an ankle support, some painkillers, rest it for a couple of days and it would be fine.  I tried it again (at a lesson this time) and thought it was on the mend. So I went off with Scott and had a couple of runs and all seemed well in the world. Unfortunately for me, as you progress you start to go a bit quicker, and I was soon careering down the mountain with a badly damaged ankle that couldn’t cope with the stress of turning. Needless to say I stacked it quite spectacularly and let out a huge scream as I felt my ligaments tear.

All in, I think that holiday cost me the best part of £1,500 for about an hour and a half’s boarding. And it prevented me from doing the marathon. And kept me out of all sport for four months. But on the bright side, I did actually really enjoy it, especially as I got to paraglide straight off of the side of Alpe D’Huez, which was pretty good fun. I also got my revenge on Scott by guilting him out to the early hours each night to the point where he had to quit boarding on the last day through exhaustion and heart palpitations.

So as you can see, I have a pretty reasonable history in injuries and stupidity. The good news is I haven’t even told you the half of it yet. So at a later date I’ll tell you about some of my cricket and football related ones, and why my thumb doesn’t work anymore! 

And I’m telling you this because…
I’m running the 2012 London Marathon for the Hertfordshire Community Foundation (HCF).

If you feel inclined to sponsor me to help the Hertfordshire Community Foundation continue their great work, you can do so here:  http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/BenWood2 

Race Report: The Watford Half Marathon

This will be the shortest race report ever. Given over 4 inches of snow fell on Saturday night they unsurprisingly took the decision to cancel it. So instead of my 13 mile run around Watford, I decided to spend the morning having snowball fights with my brother Dan and his boy, Tyler.

Unsurprisingly, they called the race off...

This was all going brilliantly until I threw one at Dan and missed, hitting Tyler square on the head. It led to a few tears, but fortunately he’s old enough to know it didn’t hurt, and the prospect of revenge via a free hit against me seemed to cheer him up no end. Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said of Evie.

The calm before the storm

Whilst fascinated by the snow, Evie’s only 18 months so she was struggling to walk in it and was more than a bit unsure. Dan and I were having a tit for tat exchange when he flung yet another one at my head. I managed to duck out of the way of it (more adept at avoiding bouncers than throwing the stumps down, obviously) but what I didn’t realise was that Clare had walked Evie a bit further out into the war zone, sorry garden. The snowball hit her straight between the eyes and bang on her nose, and led to a completely inconsolable little girl.

She spent the next few minutes crying uncontrollably, interspersed with saying the words ‘no, no, no’ every ten seconds or so. This promptly rendered the match abandoned, with the scores level at one bad parent all. Sorry Tyler. Sorry Evie.



An emotionally scarred Evie gets to grips with the snow

Following the morning’s frolics in the snow, my family stayed for lunch and then headed off for the arduous trek back to Gloucestershire. When they’d gone muggins here decided he wouldn’t be beaten by the snow, so set out for my weekly long run in pretty treacherous conditions.

On the plus side, I can report that I managed 13.7 miles. But on the negative side, it was more than a bit hairy until I got out to the country roads. And when I got there, it was slightly unfortunate that the only bits of road that appeared to be reasonably snow free were the hilly ones, so my gentle run was anything but.

Setting off for 13.7M of fun...

I got back home just before dark, freezing cold and soaked to the bone, having run through huge amounts of sludge and had cars deliberately target me for a game of ‘soak the runner’. Having subsequently checked my route, it turns out I did a similar amount of climbing to my Cotswold run. And I have had a similar result in paying for it with extremely painful legs today. But despite all that, I can definitely count it as a moral victory.

And I’m telling you this because…
I’m running the 2012 London Marathon for the Hertfordshire Community Foundation (HCF).

If you feel inclined to sponsor me to help the Hertfordshire Community Foundation continue their great work, you can do so here:  http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/BenWood2 

January month in review

It’s fair to say that January was a mixed bag for me. I spent the first ten days nailing my training only to follow it with two weeks off injured, before making a comeback of sorts on Wednesday.

Anyway, rather than bore you with that, here is how my month panned out under the usual headings…

Miles run in the last month = 116

I actually expected it to be much lower than this and am only one mile down on my November total so that’s good news.  

If I’d been fit throughout the month and completed the training plan I’d have racked up 160 miles which is way more than I’ve ever done. So maybe rather than fretting about my injury, I should probably focus on the fact my body was telling me to relax a bit… (I know that sort of cavalier attitude will come back to haunt me come 22 April, I’m sure.)  

Time spent running = 15 hours and 14 minutes

I haven’t checked, but my guess is that would be about the same time Fernando Torres / Andy Carroll are averaging between goals for Chelsea / Liverpool. Not bad for £85M of talent.

Equally, I also have a feeling it would have been roughly how many minutes of hard work that England’s batsmen ruined in 60 minutes of madness on Saturday morning. Either way, it’s quite a high number.

Pre-6am starts in the name of running = 9

Wow, nine pre-6am starts. That is proper dedication, especially in the coldest month of the year so far. No wonder I feel permanently knackered!

Night’s out sacrificed = 0

I can’t remember being invited to many things last month let alone having to sacrifice them. So my marathon running is either making me extremely unpopular. Or it’s January. Or both.

I did manage three or four pretty heavy nights out though, so you’ll be pleased to know I’m not living like a monk. In fact, after the Incisive Awards I was in such a bad way that I could barely deliver someone’s leaving speech at 4pm the next day. A sure fire sign that I’m getting old…

Some of the things I’ve learnt this month:

• The wonderful world of the web. I thought I’d have a look at the stats for this blog and I can exclusively reveal that 57 people from Russia have been reading it in January. I’m not sure how they found it, or who they are, but hey, I’m not fussy. какой-то шанс некоторые спонсорские pelase? (Any chance of some sponsorship please?)
• People always take the mick when you say you’re heading off for a run. They think you’re some kind of deranged individual. However I’ve got to say it’s an absolutely brilliant way to see new areas. My father in law Bob gave me a lovely 10 mile route around the Norfolk/Suffolk border this month – without it, I’d have never seen a lovely part of the country. In September last year I also did what I consider to be the best ‘tourist 10k’ ever in Washington DC. I was pushed for time so wouldn’t have got to see anything – instead I got up jet-lagged, and saw the Senate, White House, Washington Monument, Reflecting Pool, WWII Memorial and Lincoln Memorial all in a 50 minute jog. Not bad going really… 
• I’ve never been to a sports physio before. They’re really quite good aren’t they?

My best 10K - Capitol Hill down to the Lincoln Memorial & back

I’m off to do the Watford half marathon at the weekend and I’m aiming to do it fully 13 minutes slower than my last one in November. In a bizarre way, it will actually be quite difficult as I need to rein in all of my competitive instincts. I’ll let you know how I go next week…

And I’m telling you this because…

I’m running the 2012 London Marathon for the Hertfordshire Community Foundation (HCF).

If you feel inclined to sponsor me to help the Hertfordshire Community Foundation continue their great work, you can do so here:  http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/BenWood2