50/50 or phone a friend

A good run doesn't always depend on your destination or your route, rather who you are running with.

This week I've struggled on my tod, knees screaming, back aching, on short runs around the local roads.

Cue mate swinging by en route to Wales and a glorious sunny morning and suddenly I've a 45 minute run under the belt, more freckles and found some fantastic new trails up the zig zag off Hill Road, round the mount behind to the cricket club and discovered the wee castle on the golf course.












Finishing off with a return jaunt along the seafront to show him Clevedon's showpiece probably made it one of the most picturesque circuits around.

And it's left me fired up for some more.

So give your mate a call and get running.

We even mentioned the BG words...







Posted on the hoof from a phone that challenges fat fingers.

Coastal come back

It's not quite Lourdes but six months on I'm finally getting back to running on the clifftops around Clevedon.

And to date, touch wood, things are holding up.

There's something about the sea which soothes aches and pains, or at least distracts your mind from them with an intoxicating array of ever-changing views. I could run along Coastal paths for days given the opportunity.




Which is why the first Endurance Life race reminder email hurt. It's a new race, on the Isle of Wight and sounds fantastic.

In 2008 with Ian, Sarah and keV we tackled the Gower leg of the series in glorious sunshine.

If you're a half marathon fiend then tuck into any of the Endurance Life races but watch out for the one in Portland.

Two miles along the pebbles on Chesil beach nearly finished me, until the sea did it's job turning my head.





...Posted on the hoof from a phone that challenges fat fingers.

Born to Run?

Zola Budd could hold the key to my foot knack.

At least that's what I'm trying to tell myself as we head towards the end of January and all I've managed is a light jog to the Clevedon chippy.

I've just finished the illuminating "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall. It would be a former war correspondent who delves into long distance running. But it's not just any old account of all American all stars breaking the pain barrier over nauseating distances.

This is a tale of a Mexican tribe called the Tarahumara, with a shovel load of science and US ultra running history acting as light mortar to the real substance.

The shock revelation is this: How can guys who run in sandals and shun competition with the outside world beat the best the US have to offer? Because they run for fun and aren't fussy about their footwear meaning they run more on the front of their feet.

Should we throw away our orthotics and pricey Nikeys? Yet to be entirely convinced but it does make sense to strengthen your feet more by mixing things up.

I think Bob would approve, achieving his feat well before the days of Michael Jordan and co. helped revolutionise our footwear and the way we run. Didn't he train bare foot and save his plimsoles for the big day?

Right now I'll try anything, and it got me to the chip shop and back for starters.