rich_jacko

After London, I mused about trying for a sub-3h45m in 2023 for marathon #3. That was the goal this weekend, as I headed to Leeds for the inaugural Rob Burrow marathon.

I travelled up the day beforehand, mid-afternoon because of rail strikes. I checked into my hotel and walked the route to the start line, so I'd know where I was going the next day. Then it was dinner, a bit of Eurovision and an early night so I'd be fresh in the morning.

When I arrived, the start was a shambles, no other word for it. Nearly an hour-long queue for the bag drop, plus queuing for the loos. Inevitably, they had to delay the start. My wave was already moving by the time I entered the start zone. In a way, this was quite good; it meant there was none of the interminable wait you often get, standing around waiting for the race to start. Fortunately, out on the course itself, everything was a lot better organised, once we got going.

Normal strategy for a marathon is to find your "I can do this all day" pace, and keep going (until you can't!). That was never going to work with this course, which was far more undulating than most. There was also the blazing sun to consider as well as 12,000+ other runners on what were, at times, quite narrow roads. I was continuously having to adjust to my surroundings, easing on the uphills, making gravity work for me on the downhills, weaving into shade where I could and picking my way through the pack.

The first four miles took us through the city centre. There I passed Rob Burrow and Kevin Sinfield, and managed to meet up with Hannah and run with her for a bit. Then it was out into country roads and beautiful views (and hills). Here my right calf threatened to play up (as it has occasionally during training), but I eased on it a bit and it behaved itself. Miles 12 and 13 were an out-and-back stretch, with runners on both sides of the road. Here I could see how far the 3h45m pacer was ahead of me (I wasn't too worried; I crossed the start line 9 minutes after the gun!) and I waved hi to Hannah (who had caught the 4h pacer) again as I was heading back.

Mile 17 was the town of Otley, where Lesley was among the crowd cheering runners on. I didn't manage to see her, but it's not surprising as every inch of pavement through the town was full. The support all the way round the marathon was some of the best I've experienced, but Otley was second to none. They were brilliant and I told them so as I passed through. Though I didn't see Lesley, she was with me in spirit, as I used her patented jelly babies and cocktail sausages snacking strategy to keep me fuelled throughout the race!

Miles 18 and 19 were The Hill We'd All Been Warned About and... actually, it wasn't that bad. The gradient was gentle and even, and it would've been nothing if we hadn't already run 18 miles beforehand! I allowed myself to feel smug about training in Sheffield, as runners all around me started walking as I kept running (albeit at a slower pace). Once I reached the top I was tired, but dared to start thinking about that elusive 3h45m goal...

Too soon. There was a sneaky extra hill at mile 22 that I hadn't expected! I allowed myself a 2 1/2 minute walking break, then forced myself to keep going. I needed that, and it gave me just enough to keep running to the end. The last 10k was pretty much all downhill, and I just needed to keep going. I was metaphorically running on fumes by this point, so it was going to be close. Headingley Stadium was a welcome sight; I wasn't quite sure how much there was left as the route circled around it, but then it was into the ground and across the pitch to the finish line.

I was already in tears before I crossed the line, and exhausted but triumphant. I'd done it with 2 minutes to spare! I collected my medal, soaked up the crowd for a moment, then staggered outside to watch the other finishers coming in. I saw Hannah, followed shortly by Kevin and Rob, so went back into the ground to enjoy the roar as they crossed the line. Hannah and I met up again, congratulated each other over cans of Erdinger, struggled to move again, then endured the equally shambolic saga of reclaiming our bags. Honestly, if I'd have known, I wouldn't have bothered bringing one!

All marathons are tough, but this one seemed to be especially so. Most of the way round and at the end, there were runners dropping out and needing medical attention - a reminder that this is serious business. The first finisher was a relatively slow 2h29m, which makes me even more pleased with my new PB. I think I managed my race about as well as I could've done. (You can judge for yourself on that Strava.) And actually, I quite liked the hills...

I stayed in Leeds overnight, chatted to several other runners in my hotel, slept, ate and recovered slightly. Then it was back home today. Thanks to all those who supported me in raising money for The Pain Relief Foundation. I was in pain after the race, but for 1 in 7 people, it's a constant struggle. If you still want to sponsor me, you can!

The death of HM Queen Elizabeth II is an event we've known was coming for some time. She was 96, in frail health and increasingly stepping back from public life. Her Platinum Jubilee celebrations this summer felt at the time like a goodbye party. She lived a long and amazing life, and died in her favourite place, surrounded by her family. I suppose that's all any of us could wish for, but it doesn't make it any less sad. It also marks the end of an era. It's strange to be working on Operation London Bridge, stranger still to refer to the reign of Elizabeth II in the past tense and to King Charles III.

"Her Maj" has been such a constant presence in British life, from royal visits to national occasions to speaking to us every Christmas Day, not to mention her likeness on our coins, notes and stamps. She gave a literal lifetime of service to our country and the Commonwealth (which, in many ways, stands as her greatest achievement), working right up until the very end, when she saw in her fifteenth UK Prime Minister. She was our strongest diplomat, a Head of State with a wealth of knowledge and experience, removed from the divisiveness of electoral politics. She was patron of more than 600 charities and organisations, and famous for taking an interest in everyone she met. She always seemed to be there, with her devotion to duty, her warm words of wisdom, and her infectious smile and good humour. She was a role model and an inspiration to millions. People are affectionately referring to her as "the nation's granny", and it does feel like that in a way. Even though the vast majority of us never knew her personally, it kind of feels as if we did.

As I mentioned when Prince Philip passed away last year, I was lucky enough to see him and the Queen in person, when they came to Leeds on her Diamond Jubilee tour. I took the photos below on that day. It was a lovely occasion, with a great sense of community from everyone there.


Of course, not everyone agrees. I have a theory that your views on the monarchy depends on whether you see us belonging to it, or it belonging to us. A minority think of the royals as over-privileged, swanning around at taxpayers' expense, and all the pomp and ceremony as self-indulgent and divorced from reality. Others (like me, obviously) think of the words used to describe the Queen (and being pledged by our new King) - duty, service, humility - and see the pomp and ceremony as an integral part of our culture and national life, there for all of us to appreciate or participate in. Even if each group can understand, intellectually, where the other is coming from, I fear that's a gulf in emotional perspective that's too large to bridge. Which is a real shame, as I get the sense the Queen felt duty-bound to each and every one of us.

Some feel the blanket coverage of current events is excessive. I do get that. I'd be lying if I said I'd never felt the same way about certain sporting tournaments or other events. But personally, while I've hardly been watching it all, I've drawn comfort from being able to switch the telly on at any time and see what is happening. I expected to feel sad at the Queen's death (and I was), but I was surprised at how reassuring I found it seeing Charles ascend to the throne. But I suppose that sense of continuity and resilience in the face of national adversity is one of the things the monarchy is all about. It's clearly impossible for him to fill the shoes left by a sovereign who is already starting to be called "Elizabeth the Great", but his first address to the nation as King was perfectly judged, even as he was mourning the loss of his mother. I wish him well.

For the public, we are all dealing with this in our own way. I am not travelling to London to join The Queue to see her lying in state, but I am full of admiration for those who are willing to wait in line for five miles and 24 hours to do so. Could there be any more magnificent, quintessentially British tribute? For me, I was glad to join (in person) the brief service, minute's silence and national anthem at the start of the Great North Run last weekend, to sign a book of condolence at the town hall, and to watch some of the key events on television. These have all helped me to mentally process a peculiar mix of grief for a stranger's death, a sense of living through a moment of national history, and a collective experience in which there are so many differing views and individual stories.

I think all that remains for me to say is thank you, Ma'am. Rest in peace, now your duty is done. We were so very lucky to have had you as our Queen. x

I went onwards to London last Saturday for charity run number 3, the world's biggest marathon.

I expected registration on Saturday to be stressful, and it was. Unlike other events, where your bib number is posted to you beforehand, for this one they posted out kitbags. You then had to drop these off at the ExCeL Centre, choose your finishing t-shirt, register and collect your number. Supposedly this was for covid reasons, to reduce the crowding of thousands of people together on race day. If so, it was a miserable failure. All it did was move the crowd indoors and a day earlier. Social distancing was impossible; you just had to trust a combination of luck, vaccinations and the requirement for everyone to have a negative lateral flow test in the two days beforehand. I suspect the real reason for this bizarre set-up was to influence people to buy stuff at the ExCeL's marathon show. I didn't go to the show. I was sufficiently freaked out, by the crowds on the Tube and while waiting in various queues for an hour, that I just wanted to get out as soon as possible.

After that, it was back to my hotel in Canary Wharf, where I'd literally only had time to check in, drop my bags and go, for a more chilled evening and an early night before the big race. The 18-mile marker was just outside the entrance, giving a taste of things to come. The weather was absolutely chucking it down, thankfully not giving a taste of things to come.

I woke as dawn was breaking on a crisp, dry and chilly morning - near perfect running conditions again (I've been so lucky with the weather across all three events!). After a sensible, carb-oriented breakfast (must resist having lots of bacon and sausages...), I hopped onto the DLR to Greenwich and made my way through the park to the start line. I was in the green starting zone, which was the smallest of the three, and had less of the excitement than the red zone, where all the TV cameras were. It was cold, waiting to begin, and I was glad I'd brought a foil blanket with me. It was nice to chat with other runners during the long, last-minute queue for the loos and while waiting in our holding area. I spoke with those hoping to go sub-3h30m, those doing their first or fifth marathon, and found myself stood behind the start line next to six people about to break a world record, dressed as Colin the Caterpillar. I love the dichotomy between all the different stories and challenges people have set themselves, and the way running events are such a communal, shared experience. Mind you, everyone in our holding area exclaimed, "What!?" at the guy being interviewed on the big screen for running 48 marathons in 30 days. That's just ridiculous!


As with the Great North Run, the wave starts and absence of spectators at the start line meant it didn't feel like a huge moment. I was mostly just eager to get going (and get warmed up!). It was fairly big though, being called forward with 1,000 other participants, hearing the airhorn, then all crossing the line in our three-minute window. The mass start times were spread over two hours, rather than six, as they had been in Newcastle, making for a much busier start. For all the chaos of Saturday, the organisation on the day itself was faultless, so full credit and thanks to all the organisers and volunteers (who, of course, I thanked along the way). Marshalling the runners, helping people cross the roads around us, manning the drinks and energy stations - all of these were vital jobs. Even if the road around the Lucozade hand-outs did feel rather too much like trying to run on the floor of the Roxy disco.

The early part of the run was all about not charging off too quickly and finding a comfortable pace. Easy enough, though it was tempting to go speeding ahead during the downhill mile 3. Greenwich, for the most part, looks like a residential part of any major city - normal roads, lined with houses, shops and the occasional park. It was easy to forget this was the London Marathon. Also, the 12-year-old me enjoyed sniggering at the marshalls stood either side of every speed bump, shouting "Hump!" enthusiastically and repeatedly as a warning.

As we merged with the red zone starters at the end of mile 3, the numbers grew and it began to feel more like a major event (I couldn't resist shouting, "Come on, you reds!" when they first emerged on the other side of the carriageway, divided from us "greens" and "blues" for a short stretch by the barrier). Then, just past the 10k mark, came the first iconic London Marathon moment - the tight loop around three sides of the Cutty Sark. The crowds here were enormous and gave everyone great support. If you want to know why mass running events are addictive, think about having thousands of people lining the streets, cheering you on. It was like that all the way around (easily the equal of the Great North Run), but nowhere moreso than there at the Cutty.


Almost as if it's the world's biggest parkrun, a marathon is mostly "a run, not a race". The camaraderie and support all the runners give to each other is fantastic. It may be different for the very elite, but us mass runners are mainly focussed on our own run, rather than jostling for position. Every one of us know how much training needs to go into running this distance and have enormous respect for one another. Especially so for those taking on the extra challenge of running in fancy dress. Those runners attract more attention from the crowds, but you can't begrudge them any of it - it's hard enough running 26.2 miles in clothes designed for running in; doing it in a bulky, hot and heavy costume isn't something I'd want to do. As well as the aforementioned Colin, along the way I saw a rhino, an elephant, a stormtrooper with a feather boa, a tractor, a bride and groom pairing, a three-legged pairing, Spider-Man, Batgirl and a giant brain. You cheer them all on, just as much as the crowds do. As I and a couple of other runners passed a guy clomping along in full ski boots. As one, we did a double-take and complimented him, "Well done, mate!" As the event's tagline says, #WeRunTogether.

Beyond the Cutty, the next few miles were uneventful and I got properly set into my rhythm. This wasn't a run I needed to think particularly hard about. There weren't the constant undulations of the Great North Run, or the massive uphill slog of the Sheffield Half. This was mostly flat all the way. It was just a case of finding a comfortable pace I felt I could keep up forever (the distance is too far to be thinking "Well, I can push for this long before I start to tire) and making sure I broadly stuck to it. This was quite easy given the number of other runners to pace against, and I found myself slipping into something of a zen-like state. Beyond that, the sum total of my strategy involved regular sips of water and energy bars after 15k and 30k. A shorter run, such as a 5k or 10k is all about speed and managing your heart rate/breathing; a marathon is all about going the distance and managing your energy/hydration levels and your legs. Every mile and every kilometre of the course was marked out (most events mark out either one or the other), which provided plenty of markers to reassure us all we were making continuous progress. I kept reminding myself, £17 per km - that's how much money I was raising for charity, and it seemed like a pretty good deal. I was definitely achieving something here. Thank you once again to everyone who has sponsored me over these events.

The biggest progress marker of all was Tower Bridge. I knew it was coming up, from passing the 12-mile marker, but it was still quite something to turn the corner and see the road stretching up to it. It was the only really noticeable uphill on the entire course, but the sight of the bridge gives you such a boost, you don't care. The crowds were in full force here too, and running across such a landmark was just as iconic a sporting moment as crossing the Tyne Bridge had been in Newcastle. In London, the bridge has the added significance of meaning you're nearly at the halfway point. This was one of the most exciting bits of the course - in quick succession, you run over the bridge, past the Tower of London, join a mile-and-a-half stretch of watching elite runners passing in the other direction (the fast club athletes, by the time I got there; the Olympians were long gone!), and hit the halfway point.


After that, it was into the winding slog around Canary Wharf and the Isle of Dogs. Not that it was terrible, but this was definitely the least fun part of the course. You lose track of where you are, it goes on for seven miles before you rejoin the carriageway in the other direction, and this is the point in the run when you're starting to seriously tire. And I had to run past my hotel, knowing I still had eight miles to go until the finish line. This whole section was not helped by (a) the sun starting to beat down hard - thank heaven for the shade from tall buildings; or (b) my Garmin watch losing GPS position - curse you, shade from tall buildings! The resulting garbage pace information (16min/km one minute; 3min/km the next - Go home, Garmin; you're drunk!) made it harder to concentrate and stick to my pace. But I got through that long section, and the 32k marker was another significant psychological boost - just over 10k to go and, unlike my previous marathon two years earlier, I was still going strong at this point. Don't get me wrong. It was hard work, I was tired and ready for it to be over soon, but I was still running well. I hadn't had to stop or walk so far and it was around this point I set myself the target of keeping that going until the finish line.

At 37k, I passed that all-important "only a parkrun to go" moment and entered very familiar London territory. There wasn't just an arbitrary distance to the finish line any more; it was a route I knew well. (Well, perhaps not running through Blackfriars Tunnel, but generally.) This was the first and last moment during the run that I had a serious think about my finishing time. Having established I wasn't going to break sub-3h45m (a possible goal I had going in), but nor was I going to be slower than 4h, unless anything went badly wrong in the last stretch, I dismissed such thoughts again and just concentrated on making it to the end without breaking stride. Others were slowing around me at this point. I tried to encourage them along where I could, but I was too tired to shout very much.


Along the Embankment, past the 25-mile marker - I could feel the end was near as I passed the corner of Westminster Bridge and Big Ben, 1,200m to go... Up past Whitehall, along Birdcage Walk and alongside St James's Park - it's just name-dropping landmarks at this point. This was it, the third and final big iconic section (after Cutty Sark and Tower Bridge) leading up to the finish. The signs marked 600m to go... 400m to go... I rounded the corner past Buckingham Palace (noting the Union Jack flying; Her Maj wasn't in!) and saw the finish up ahead. I got a boost from hearing the announcer talking about everyone coming in now achieving a finish in under 4 hours. It was in the bag at this point and I didn't have the energy for a sprint finish. Along with a couple of others, I spread my arms wide, soaked up the atmosphere and let myself relax a little, just enjoying cruising the final straight up The Mall and across the line. A finish time of 3h52m26s. I'll happily take that.


I paused for a selfie (getting out of the way of a runner dressed as a tree, who was doing the same), collected my kit bag, then went to join the park full of runners collapsed on the ground, to rest my weary legs, have a snack and a drink, and catch up on messages - lots of good luck messages from friends and family, as well as congratulations from those who'd been following my progress online. In my goody bag, as well as the extra layer and food items I'd added, there were much-needed bottles of Lucozade and water, a hefty finisher's medal and the brightest finisher's t-shirt I've ever earned. It'll certainly be handy if I go jogging at night and need to be seen... from orbiting satellites.

Eventually I struggled back to my feet. This was hard. I gave the corporate stalls a miss, but cheered on the people who were still running as I made my way back to the Tube. Having been lucky with the weather so far, the heavens now opened for a brief deluge. I got wet, but mainly felt sorry for those still out on the course. It felt nice to be treated like royalty by the Underground staff - a finisher's medal got you a "Well done!" and free passage through the barriers. Random passers-by also paused to congratulate anyone wearing a medal. There were still runners passing by my hotel when I got back, and the sun was out again, so I stopped to cheer them on before retiring to my room. The remainder of the day saw me attending to my aching body, phoning Mum and Dad, taking advantage of the hotel pool and sauna (Bliss!) and staggering out as far as Nando's for food replenishment. After which I went to bed at quarter to nine and slept for ten hours.

I felt stiff and sore on Monday morning, but triumphant. I made further use of the pool and sauna, and was able to make full use of the breakfast offer, without having to worry about running. There were several other runners staying in the hotel, so lots of mutual congratulations and swapping notes on how we'd done (a near clone of Dave R had run it in under 3h30m). I checked out, popped briefly into our London office to pick up my new security pass for work (None of my colleagues was in) then joined the queue for medal engraving outside the New Balance shop on Oxford Street.

I was expecting to have to wait, but I spent almost as long waiting as it took to run the marathon. I'm not even exaggerating; I was stood in line for about 3h45m. Not what your legs need the day after running 26.2 miles. Luckily it was a fine day and I had a book to read (thank you, Stephen Fry!) but still, had I known it would take that long, I probably wouldn't have bothered. The people doing the engraving were lovely and friendly, but there really needed to have been more than two of them. Negative marks for post-event organisation, just as with the pre-event arrangements. As a result, I missed the last super off peak train back by about 20 minutes, and spent 3 hours waiting around Kings Cross - St Pancras. I bought books, beer and pasta to pass the time, and eventually made it home around a quarter to ten. I was very glad I'd booked the following day off work as well.

Despite such occasional setbacks, it had been a triumphant trip. And let's not forget I wasn't just doing this for the challenge, but to raise funds for the National Autistic Society. My sponsorship page remains open for anyone who still wants to donate - I know some people have qualms about donating until after the event ;o)


What next? London has given me greater confidence in running marathons, so I doubt it will be my last. At York, I started too fast, hit "the wall" around 30k and half-limped to the end. I made none of those mistakes this time around and kept running throughout, at a satisfyingly consistent pace. Yet my finish time was around 2 minutes slower than York. Did I err the other way, and pace myself too cautiously? I feel I've got a sub-3h45m in me; I only need to shave off 11s/km. Not next year though, as I want a break from marathon training over the summer. Maybe in 2023...

On Sunday, I took part in the 40th Great North Run. I joined 57,000 runners, including the best in the world. The run was broadcast live in 127 countries and was the first major event of its kind anywhere since the pandemic began. It was a brilliant experience and the most fun I've ever had running a half marathon.

I'm really glad about that, because I turned down a holiday in Wales with friends to run in this event. I'm not going to speculate which I'd have enjoyed more, because that's a really counterproductive way of thinking. But it was a major running achievement which will stay with me. Plus I have (at the time of writing this) raised £1,286 for the National Autistic Society, which counts for a lot.

The event took up pretty much my whole weekend. After parkrun (of course!), I only had a little while to pack before catching the train up to Newcastle. I checked into my hotel, took a walk out to the Town Moor (to be aware of my route to the start line the next morning) and along the Tyne (to admire the bridges), and then there was only time for dinner, watching Emma Raducanu win the US Open (along with half the people in the hotel, it seemed, and trying to get a bit of sleep before the big day.

I didn't sleep much. But I had a good hotel breakfast and made my way to the start in plenty of time. The weather was pretty much perfect - cool and cloudy. I was glad the heatwave had passed! My worries about finding my way past the road closures were unnecessary - I just followed the growing crowd! Social distancing (of sorts) meant there was a rolling start. The race officials called all the orange waves forward together (I was meant to be in orange wave 6 of 8), which meant I ended up starting 20 minutes earlier than I expected to.

The start line itself was a strange non-event. No waiting, no countdown, no crowds, no announcement or airhorns. There was plenty of all that on the way across to the start line, but the start itself saw us all weaving through metal barriers, which seemed like they were put there to trip us up, but were actually a clever way of spacing everyone out. I emerged from that obstacle course and, oh look, I guess we're starting running now!

Once around the first bend, the crowds started lining the roads to cheer everyone on. They didn't stop all the way round. The atmosphere you get from road races like this is something special, and the buzz you get from doing it with thousands of other runners just adds to that feeling. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until just then. I've cried at the end of a long run before now, but this was the first time I'd felt myself begin to get teary right at the start. I think I went around the entire route with a big grin on my face.

On runs which aren't the world's biggest half marathon, you get crowds like that at the start and finish, with long stretches in the middle where there aren't many spectators and the runners themselves thin out a little. Not here. The biggest gap in the crowd was maybe 100m or so. There were ordinary people lining the roads, charity stalls (I made sure to look out for and wave to the NAS one at miles 3 and 9), live music and more. The only thing I missed out on was seeing the Red Arrows flying overhead (Going by the TV coverage, I think they must've flown over about when I was at the furthest point of the route.) While it was nowhere near as heaving as the aerial shots I've seen of hordes of runners from previous years (we were generally all running at a socially distanced 2m from each other throughout), there were always lots of other runners surrounding me as well.

One advantage of the altered route this year was getting to see the elite runners on their return leg, as my wave was heading outwards. During my first couple of miles, I saw the elite women coming up to the finish, then shortly after the elite men, and then the other side of the carriageway began to fill up with the mass of other runners like me.

As well as the crowds, runners themselves were cheering each other on, whether it was those passing in the other direction, those in crazy-but-amazing costumes (I spotted Marge Simpson, the Queen of Hearts, Three Little Pigs - who'd been interviewed on the news that morning, Mario & Luigi, a lion, and many more), those running for the same charity, or those who just looked like they needed the encouragement. I joined in of course. We also got to high-five the crowds, do the iconic run across the Tyne Bridge not once but twice, waive at the big screen at the halfway turnaround, and take full advantage of the acoustics as we ran under the motorway overpass ("Oggy! Oggy! Oggy!" "Oi! Oi! Oi!").

I'd resolved not to set myself a target time, and to just enjoy the race at whatever pace felt good. And I pretty much did. I didn't look at my watch at all for the first couple of km. When I did, I found I was averaging about 4:45 per km, which surprised me. I'd typically been doing about 5:10 per km during training runs, but the energy you get from the atmosphere at an event always make you go a bit faster, as does the push you get from having other runners around you. I was going fast - too fast for a very long run, but manageable over a half marathon. I kept an eye on my pace after that, preparing to back off a little if I found myself pushing too hard.

Lots of people (including elite runners) said what a hilly course it was. Pah! These people have clearly never been running in Sheffield! What it was, was undulating pretty much throughout. This brought its own challenges. Your mind is working hard, as well as your body, in an event like this. While I was enjoying the crowd, I was also constantly having to pick my path around other runners; be aware of my pace, energy and any aches or niggles; as well as keep track of taking in sensible amounts of water and sugar. In that state of mind, it was easy not to notice when a downhill slope gently turned into an uphill slope. (Yes, it was so not hilly, I almost didn't notice some of the hills, ha!) When you find yourself still doing a downhill pace on an uphill, you need to ease off!

That's not to say it wasn't hard work. It was. I was putting a lot of effort in, and I've got the stats to prove it! My point is I got caught up in the moment and was enjoying it all the way round (even when it started raining towards the end). Having been training for a full marathon gave me a fitness level and a confidence to stretch myself over a half. It was only towards the finish, once the inclines got steeper and the route wound its way uphill back into the city centre and towards the Town Moor, that I found myself struggling and wanting to slow down.

By this point, though, I'd realised I was on target for achieving a long-term running goal - a sub-100-minute half marathon. So I pushed on. Those last couple of miles were incredibly hard work. My heart rate stats show I was averaging 184 beats per minute at that stage (which is pretty much maximum effort and not sustainable), versus a more sensible 164 beats per minute for the rest of the route, up until that point. I cheered along with everyone around me as I came up to the finish line, crossing it with over 80 seconds to spare! I leapt over the line and punched the air in triumph!

(Then immediately had to dart sharply to the right to avoid the runners in front, who'd come to a dead stop, while I still had forward momentum... Never mind, it didn't ruin the moment too much!)

My time was 1:38:36, over 3 minutes faster than my previous PB. On reflection, I shouldn't have been that surprised. I'd been training for a marathon, had the boost from a mass event and it was the least hilly such mass event I'd done. But I'm still very, very pleased with that result.

It all seemed to be over way too soon (Maybe I should've run slower!). I collected my goody bag, posed for my finishing photo, and made my way over to the NAS charity tent, where snacks and drinks awaited. I spent a while nattering there with the volunteers and other runners (It felt very strange that some had finished, like me, while others were still waiting to be called to the start line). Then I watched a bit of the race from the sidelines on my way back to my hotel, had a quick shower and change, then caught the train back to Sheffield.

One down... two to go. I don't expect to set the same kind of pace for the remaining runs. The Sheffield Half Marathon (as mentioned) is hillier, and I'll be wanting to make sure I don't knacker myself a week before the London Marathon. For that one, I don't feel quite as well prepared for the distance as I did for the Yorkshire Marathon in 2019. My aims are simple - get to the end; don't die!

My legs were sore on Monday, but by Tuesday I was back out there running 6k in preparation for the next event. Wish me luck, and keep the sponsor money coming! :o)

I watched the Meghan and Harry interview last night. I know a lot of people aren't interested, and I'm not completely sure why I am. I guess I'm a bit of a sucker for royal news and all things constitutional. The following are a few reactions I had (expanding on a comment I posted earlier on That Facebook):

My overall impression was one of sadness that they felt the need to drag a family feud out in public. We didn't need to know there was a time Prince Charles wasn't returning Harry's calls, or that Meghan and Kate had a brief falling out over dresses for flower girls (You said you forgave her and would never want to raise it in public, so why are you raising it in public?). They say they want to mend bridges, but airing these things can't possibly help.

The mental health and racism issues were much more serious, and did need to be brought to light. Most of the criticism was aimed at palace officials rather than the royals themselves. It certainly feels like there should be an investigation into this. Again, it was sad that the couple didn't feel they could turn to any of the family for help - especially given the amount of work Prince William in particular has done to raise the profile of mental health issues.

The unnamed royal commenting on what colour Archie's skin would be is a tricky one, where it feels we need to hear the other side. The context was unclear. Was it intended as "the media are going to obsess over this, so you need to be prepared to deal with that," or was it something more sinister?

The institutional lack of support was obvious though. I was also sad about the awful press treatment of certain women in the royal family (and it is always the women), and noted the irony of this being broadcast on International Women's Day. It's probably right that the palace has never got involved in a media tit-for-tat, but it's hard not to imagine something could have been done to challenge the worst of the journalistic behaviour.

Overall, Meghan and Harry mostly came across sympathetically and it was nowhere near as cringe-worthy as that awful 1995 Diana interview, but it was still an exercise in media manipulation and only one side of the story. What they said deserves to be taken seriously, but we shouldn't jump to too many conclusions.

Some of it didn't quite ring true. Removing their security was presented as family pettiness, but that security is taxpayer-funded, so there will have been wider considerations. Archie not being a prince was portrayed as a personal snub, but it reflects a long-term trend of scaling back royal titles and the civil list - William and Kate's children are in the direct line of succession, but none of the Queen's other great-grandchildren have titles, nor do Princess Anne's children.

The bits where the interview was dumbed down for the US audience were annoying, such as Oprah's fake astonishment at the "revelations" the royals can't just do whatever they want, and that the media have a lot of influence over them. Though I do wonder how the anti-royal brigade will square Meghan's description of a restrictive, hard-working and emotionally brutal life with their perception of the royals as a bunch of lazy freeloaders.

There were lighter moments. It was nice to hear how warmly Meghan was welcomed in at first, and I loved the anecdote of how she first met the Queen, wasn't expecting to, and had to be given a hasty lesson in how to curtsey by other royals. They were both full of praise for the Queen. (No one ever has anything bad to say about HMTQ!) Their reflections on parenthood were charming too.

I am still a little baffled though, as to why a couple claiming to try to escape the public eye and protect their son would move to LA, start a media company and name it after him.

On Tuesday, I went to one of Cineworld's final showings before they closed. There was an odd feel about the place; it was mostly empty and one poor staff member had the job of continuously wiping down all the handrails.

I was there for an Unlimited exclusive showing of the first episode of The Mandalorian, Disney Plus's flagship show. A showing I might not have gone to if it wasn't for the fact that I'd booked my ticket weeks ago. I was amused to overhear other Unlimited card holders planning how many other films they could squeeze into one night.

The show was... okay, I guess. It was fun, there were some nice set-piece scenes and I really enjoyed many of the secondary characters who 'Mando' meets along his journey. My main problem with it was that I didn't understand why I was meant to care about the central character - an anonymous bounty hunter who barely talks and never takes his helmet off. Maybe the audience gets to know him better as the series goes on, I don't know.

Also, what is it with Disney-made Star Wars that means everywhere looks like Tatooine? I don't just mean in terms of the desert landscapes. I mean the mix of species, the costumes, the buildings, the technology - all of these things varied greatly from planet to planet and culture to culture in George Lucas's galaxy, while still feeling part of the same overall society. Under Disney, every place seems the same.

I would still like to see the rest of the series sometime though. And I'm much more stoked for Clone Wars season 7, which was trailed afterwards...

75 years ago today, the 10-man crew of the US bomber, Mi Amigo, lost their lives as they saved their doomed plane from crashing onto Sheffield civilians. I went along to the flypast commemorating the event in Endcliffe Park this morning.

There was a huge crowd and it was great to see so many people. The BBC were there in force - I saw Steph McGovern and Charlie Stayt broadcasting from the Breakfast sofa and interviewing Tony Foulds, the man who has spent his life looking after the memorial after witnessing the crash as a young boy. Some people have decried the media circus, but I think it's wonderful that it's raised both local and national awareness of what was previously a little-known piece of history and to appreciate what the Mi Amigo crew did that day.


The names of the airmen were read out in a solemn ceremony as their photos appeared on the big screen: Pilot Lt John Kriegshauser (pilot), 2nd Lt Lyle Curtis (co-pilot), 2nd Lt John Humphrey (navigator), Melchor Hernandez (bombardier), Harry Estabrooks (engineer and gunner), Charles Tuttle (gunner), Robert Mayfield (radio operator), Vito Ambrosio (gunner), Malcolm Williams (gunner) and Maurice Robbins (gunner).

The flypast itself began at 8:45am and consisted of 11 planes: a Dakota, Typhoon, CV-22 Osprey, MC-130J Commando II, KC-135 Stratotanker and four F-15E Strike Eagles - one of which spiralled above the rest in a spectacular finish. They were flying out of the sun, which made it difficult to get good photos, but the skies were clear and it was an impressive show.

I am very glad I went.

From: [ ]
To: gill.furniss.mp@parliament.uk
Date: 11 January 2019 20:27
Subject: Please support a second EU referendum


Dear Ms Furniss,

I have written to you on two previous occasions, about different issues, but did not receive a reply. I realise you must receive a lot of correspondence, but I hope this occasion will be different and you will be able to respond to the points I am raising, especially as they concern our future as a nation.

I am talking, of course, about Brexit, and specifically about the Labour Party's position on Brexit.

Labour are arguing against asking voters to reconsider decisions they made in 2016 which directly addressed the question. Instead, they say, there should be another general election. This would ask voters to reconsider decisions they made in 2017, which don't directly address the question. I have to say this seems rather self-serving.

More than that, though, it assumes the choice that should be put to voters is not whether we should Leave or Remain in the EU, but only whether we should be forced to endure a Tory Brexit or a Labour Brexit. Only 6,000 votes separated Leave and Remain in Sheffield, so that feels like the wrong question. But more than that, voters can only make a meaningful choice if we know what each of those options means.

As of today, we know that a Tory Brexit means Mrs May's deal or No Deal. You don't need to tell me, as I am fully convinced that No Deal would be a disaster and Mrs May's is a terrible deal that compares very badly with the deal we have now as a member of the EU. But I can at least see that it does attempt to honour the referendum result by "taking back control" in a number of areas. Some of that control is uncertain, and contingent on escaping the Backstop, but there is a logic to it.

I'm afraid I cannot see the logic to Labour's version of Brexit. It's not enough to say it's not as bad as the Tory version. We need to know what's good about it.

If I've understood right (and please correct me if I'm wrong), a Labour Brexit would see the UK:

- in a permanent customs union with the EU
- in a relationship akin to the single market (including ongoing financial contributions to the EU budget and potentially signing up to the Four Freedoms, including freedom of movement)
- protecting workers' rights and environmental standards by continuing to adhere to EU rules

Now, those might well all be very laudible aims, but the result doesn't look very much like Brexit. It looks rather more like "BINO" ("Brexit In Name Only"). Can you honestly, hand on heart, say that this plan honours the referendum result in anything more than a very technical sense? Can you explain how it addresses the reasons why people voted Leave?

The only tangible difference I can see is that it reduces the UK's status from "rule maker" to "rule taker". What do we get in return? What benefits would there be over remaining an EU member?

I can't see any. It just looks like an exercise in damage limitation when compared with a Tory Brexit. If that's the case, Labour should stop accepting Brexit as something inevitable and that "damage control" is good enough. Labour should have the courage to tell voters they were sold a lie and that there is no left wing case for Brexit - as your colleague, David Lammy MP, did in his excellent speech earlier this week.

I am asking you to please campaign for the following, both in Parliament as MP for Brightside and Hillsborough, and to your party leadership to adopt as official Labour policy:

1) immediate suspension or revocation of the Article 50 notification, while we as a country sort this mess out;

2) a full public consultation, aimed at identifying the underlying issues behind WHY people voted Leave or Remain in 2016, and a national strategy to tackle those issues;

3) having done that, and had the informed debate we should have had in 2016, a second referendum to settle the question of our EU membership once and for all - with Labour campaigning strongly in favour of Remain.

The strategy in 2) should inform what happens next, whether it's the terms of how we Leave or the changes we need to make to the status quo if we choose to Remain.

I think this is the only sensible way forward and I hope that you will be able to confirm you will campaing for it, or something similar. If you disagree with it, I would also be very interested to understand your reasons why - and in particular if you believe your constituents have anything at all to gain from ANY of the versions of Brexit on offer.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Many thanks,

[name and address]

...or, bits of my life according to my posts on Facebook, anyway!

9 January at 21:06:
Snow Nessie was 8 years ago! That was probably the last really big snow in Hillsborough. We need more!

17 January at 18:33:
The pavements were covered in slush this morning, so I wore my snow boots for the walk into work. I'd forgotten how cosy they are - toasty toes! :o)

26 January at 22:26:
A long day at work today, but I did get to go to the top of the Walkie-Talkie, which wasn't bad. :o)

29 January at 18:48:
"Problems" it's nice to have: I have a week's holiday I need to use up by the end of February. Any ideas for how I should spend it? Anyone got any exciting plans for half term or anything?

3 February at 12:29:
Hmm, I think the parkrun results must've got one token out of sync at some point this morning. I was faster than that, and there definitely wasn't 13 seconds between me and the guy just in front at the end. There wasn't 5 seconds between Dan and Bryony's photo finish either!
Ah well, it happens. It happened when I was on token duty too. Still a big thank you to all the volunteers!

6 February at 21:25:
Go Falcon Heavy! :oD

9 February at 23:15:
"Old Macdonald had a Farm" in the style of Tom Waits; "We're All Going on a Brexit Holiday"; a death metal version of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"; "Smoke on the Water" played on cow bells - Bill Bailey, you brilliant, utter loon. A great evening's entertainment at City Hall. At times I was struggling to breathe! :oD

10 February at 10:43:
Yeeeah... I reckon I can do a half-marathon... Ran 17k this morning in about 1h25m (or 2 hours including breaks) - Concord parkrun plus the journey there and back. Pleased with that, but boy it was cold and wet though! Clearly a level of insanity going on here!