Lost

Okay, just a short Lost based entry here. Season five finished on Sunday night, with more twist, turns and surprises than you could shake a really suprised stick at. They certainly know how to keep you guessing. I said similar things about season four.

The show is so far on now that no-one who is still watching can surely hold any 'they're making it up as they go along' thoughts, and, in many ways the show has repeatedly showed how shrewd and crafty the writers are. Case in point:

Season four ended with a slow reveal over a coffin to show us the, as then, unknown inhabitant inside. As the camera rose up and over the open lid the music swelled to reveal...Shock! It's...(Spoiler potential - but you probably know if you watch the show).

Season five - final scene of one strand of the finale - slow reveal over a make shift coffin, the music swells as the camera rises in exactly the same angles over the coffin to reveal...the same person inside...who we thought was alive and well...

Now it's not explained yet how this has come to happen but I was suitably impressed by a show that can end a season finale, with, basically, the same shocking twist as it did a whole 18 episodes previous, and yet it be so utterly different and as baffling as before. Roll on the final season - if only to get this whole thing over and done with.

Crouch End 10k: rain, doughnuts and more rain.

This morning it was a short walk over the hill to the start of the Crouch End 10k. During the night the heavens had opened so surely it was all set for a crisp, dry race? Perhaps not.

We queued up and, about five minutes before the start, the heavens opened...off we went, around the start which was in the local park, being slowed up by the narrowness of the course and the number of runners, which meant the first kilometre passed in a terribly slow 5.35m. The rain was sheeting down now and I was soaked through.

Kilometres 2, 3 and 4 passed quickly (after running a marathon 10km seemed quick anyway) and soon I had caught up with a friend who was running too and we ran onto kilometre 5. I had been aiming for sub 45 minutes on this run but halfway around I was at 25 minutes so clearly not on schedule. I made a quick calculation and figured if I really ran hard I could do 5k in 20 minutes.

So I pushed on and went careering around the course, overtaking everyone in sight; there's no better feeling in running that reeling in runner after runner, using the overtake as a catapult: you can almost sense their annoyance at someone passing them at pace. It's good, self-centred, motivation.

To kilometre 8 and I needed to run the last two kms in nine minutes something. Just about doable. Perhaps. So on I went, the rain lashing incessantly down, the wind buffeting us from all sides, and I spied the 9k sign coming into view. I sprinted on and after around 200 metres had to slow down. How the marathon professionals do it, I have no idea. I now had two minutes to finish the final 800m. Not going to happen.

I ran on and entered the finish area in the park. Around the final few corners, including a great sprint around the final bend to overtake two runners who had just overtaken me (ha!), and home in 47m 37seconds. Tantalisingly close. I think the lesson learned here was, need to run the first 3k faster and ideally start further up the field to avoid the 50m runners. This was my third 47 minute 10k, from three, so at least I'm consistent.

A delicious doughnut from a local bakery and a banana later and, with my two runner friends found, we headed home. As we did so the rain stopped and the sun came out. Typical.

P.S. In the race information booklet that was sent out, there was a comedy little mantra that read, 'remember, you'll go faster with pasta, but when you get to the end make our free doughnuts your friend.' Which I love. I actually thought about this at kilometre nine. Yum.

I knew this was so, but....

A friend's friend has been auditioning for the next series of X Factor (yes they're doing another one), and has so far had two rounds of auditions, and has another one coming up. Each time she's been told to get there at 5am, and not been seen to 8pm and 11pm respectively.

But the worst bit is this is just auditions with production people, not 'the people'. Well, 1/3 of them is off on Britain's Got Talent so obviously He's not going to be there. But this clearly means the 'hilarious', awful comedy people they get on must be going through this process too, being told each time something ambiguous like, 'Yeah we definitely think you've got something...(evil snigger), you've got a real...talent...heheheh...' and this is probably why, when these people arrive at the TV camera stage and are told, 'you are the worst singer ever, who ever told you you can sing, didn't know what they were talking about', it's no wonder they look so shocked and surprised.

They may be deluded to not have ever stopped and listened back to their voice and realised they're not as good as, say, Steve Brookstein, but it's no wonder they are so bewildered when they go through such a rigmarole which leads them to believe that perhaps they do have that 'X Factor' that is apparently so needed in the bloated pop world, only to find out they're actually a BIG JOKE!.

For more, better X Factor bashing, you can also watch this, probably again.

Plugging

A very good friend of mine, who once was famous, but now is less famous / not famous, but still a very good friend, is offering drumming lessons in the Brighton area. If you're in and around there and want to learn, get on his MySpace (retro!) and drop him a line. You can listen to some of his work while you're there too.

Future shock

Saw Star Trek on Sunday, very good it is too. Enjoyable, well-paced, exciting and with enough humour to be fun, rather than irritating (as shoe-horned in humour often can be in action films).

Two thoughts though.

One: Why in sci-fi films (most famously in Empire Strikes Back) do space stations / ships of the future have a vast inner section that plummet downwards into nothingness where the villain and hero always end up fighting, balancing preciously on the edge of narrow walkways and gantries, often leading to the villains demise? All that technology and they don't even bother building in a few handrails.

Two: I think the creator JJ Abrahams could be from the future. Both Lost and Star Trek contain time travel elements and the more I think about it the more I wonder if perhaps he is just normalising us to the idea of it before he reveals his true intention.

That is all.

Careful, you could have someone's eye out with that

Last night I helped a friend cart a dismantled book case across London. This involved a bus to a tube, the tube across London, out of the tube, then a short walk to his new place, with the awkward, cumbersome shelves and units. We got a few odd looks, but we pay enough for the tube so we should be able to use it for such endeavours if we wish.

The first bus we boarded, as chance would have it, had a bus company official on as well as the driver, probably taking a freebie ride home, who told us we weren't allowed on as the wood 'constituted a health and safety risk' because it could 'kill someone' if it fell on them. The second driver didn't bat an eye lid.

Pea Diddy

Those with a penchant for puns will no doubt remember the fun we all had on Comic Relief day when @serafinowicz set up a 'vegtable pun game' and asked people to contribute a small donation in return for entry to the competition of having their winning entry painted. That was a long sentence.

The winning entry was The Notorious V.E.G. and on Mr S's new, fancy website he's put the winning image up. It's AMAzing, and done by the clearly supremely talented Jim Vance. I just wanted to share it.

If I ruled the world...

I'd ban Vodafone from ever making another advert ever again.

Every advert they've ever made (off the top of my head) is always awkward and misjudged. The latest ones are the worst. In the first one, the fisher-price lookalike mimes incredibly badly, and couldn't look less like he was singing the song, while the second one is just so odd. The kid is just sitting at home, then out of nowhere, starts 'singing', then in the very last second of the shot, as he finishes 'singing' he starts to fight with his brother. Why?

Not only that, but the whole thing is just an advert for text / minute bundles that is apparently so freeking good it's akin to 'ruling the world'. Hateful stuff.

Cornish success

One of my best moments in my short journalism career thus far was when I saw my photography and writing in the glossy print pages of Cornwall Today magazine.

Since then I've done numerous features for them: Tops 10, various walks and a couple of interesting one-off features too. So I was delighted to see the magazine has won the Magazine of the Year award at the Press Gazette Regional Awards bash in London. I'll take a 1% share of the award, maybe?

It's great to see something you've been part of succeed and, irrespective of my connection to it, seeing something that represents the county I come from, being recognised and rewarded for its fine work.

Musical endeavours: Or how 175,000 people came to watch me play mandolin.

Ever since I first heard feedback I thought I wanted to be a rock and roller. Not a nu-waver, or landfill indie-er, but a genuine Jimmy Page, Rock and Roller. So I had guitar lessons and so on and got quite good, but found I couldn't sing, but could play a mean (ish) guitar. But I was no Jimmy Page.

Still, as I grew up and enjoyed playing music for itself, rather than as an ambitious way to make money, I became less bothered by this, and just enjoyed impressing people by playing Wonderwall by Oasis at parties*. Then the internet invented Youtube and suddenly people like yours truly had an outlet to record and share their music. I was intrigued. Around the same time I received a mandolin for my birthday. Being the sharing sort I recorded a brief ditty I had come up with, uploaded it to the Tube (as people were calling it then), and sent it to a few friends through Facebook (remember Facebook, it was really popular), and forget allllllll about it.

Then, about two months later I checked my video again (out of sheer vanity you understand) and, with my eyes shooting out on stalks like a cartoon character, I noticed it had been viewed...15,000 times. Wow. Now, that number is 175,000 and rising. It goes up about 200 - 1,000 a day, sometimes I get two/three comments a day, sometimes just one a week, and most are positive, and the average rating is four AND a half stars. FTW. Watch here if you wish.

It's bloody weird. To have played a made up mandolin piece to over 175,000 people is just bizarre. There's no way I could sell out Wembley stadium two nights running on the promise of a 1m 55sec mandolin piece, I'm fairly sure, but I've played to that equivalent number, right? It's a stretch......but the reality is true. I also think, perhaps, I should go on Britain's Got Talent and see how I do. However, I remain unconvinced that Amanda Holden, that paragon of talent dissection, is a mandolin fan.

The whole purpose of this post though, really, was to tell you that my brother, who clearly wanted to emulate big brother (emulate being the correct word), has become a guitar and piano player (show off) and can sing too. Bastard. He's starting to post his own Youtube stuff now, including an entire song he's covered, playing every single damned instrument on it. Watch below. It gets really good at 1m 45sec when the electric guitar kicks in. But then I would say that, being a flashy guitar solo obsessed guitarist wouldn't I?

Enjoy.



*. Note, this is a joke and I have never, ever, ever, ever done this.

News worthy

The old addage is, 'Dog bites man = no story, man bites dog = story'. Also, as you may know, local newspapers are dying out there, falling standards, fewer readers, smaller advertising revenues and so on. Quality seems to be shrinking too...

Example one: Woman can't find custard in any local shops.

Example two: Dead fish died of exhaustion.

Example three: Chair set on fire.

On one and three the comments from readers go on and on, mostly bemoaning the quality of the story, or making he-lar-ious puns on the stories. Perhaps the future of local news is to report nonsense and hope people's love of puns will run riot on the comments sections below. This would increase page impressions and encourage advertising spend. It's an idea.

The London Marathon 2009

At 9.49pm on Saturday night a good friend texted me to say good luck and remind me of the words of one Winston Churchill, ‘If you’re going through hell, keep going’. Inspiring stuff, although my favourite Churchill is ‘Never ever, ever, ever, ever, give up.’

The world's healthiest festival site

Sunday morning in Greenwich park and such thoughts are far away as we enjoy the ‘world’s healthiest festival site’, in the words of my running mate, of fancy dress costumes, flags and banners, and music. Photos with Team Go at the NSPCC and a video interview for their promotional DVDs, quick loo breaks, lathering up in sun tan lotion in light of the ridiculous sun; which would become a mainstay of the day.

Slowly we take our place on the line, chatting to a nice chap named Matthew from Warwick University who was going for 3hrs anything (I hope he made it) we await the start. The 9 minute miler pacer turns up and all eyes turn to him; like a god among men people flock to him, aiming to follow him for their 3.54 time.

The hooter sounds and we funnel towards the start and, here’s the line…we’re off and running, literally. No walking, straight into the running. The crowds are thin but friendly and the only bad thought is, ‘that sun is quite hot…’

Bands play, people cheer us on, a vicar blesses passing runners (it burns, it burns!) and the first ‘go on Dan’ cheers start. This is great! Soon we merge with the blue runners. The booing commences, who knows why, but quickly subsides, and we’re all together. Away into the distance stretch the runners. All bobbing up and down creating the effect of waves on the shore on a choppy sea.

We're on TV!

We head past the Greenwich Naval College – an amazing building – and manage to get on TV. As Matt Baker (him off Blue Peter) pulls aside a man in a devil costume, we wave inanely at the TV and, checking later on the iPlayer, yes there we are! Around the charred body of the Cutty Sark the crowds swell and the cheering increases. For another 3 miles the crowds are just amazing. Music and bands, sweets and biscuits, high-fives, name cheering, all just inspiring stuff.

Mile 8 and I spot my work colleague who gets a good picture (click) and gives me a nice buzz. Up to 10 and my running mate decides to stop for a quick break; we agree to split, I wanting to push through the slight twinge in my stomach, knowing the second wind will kick in soon.

Mile 12 and the realization Tower Bridge is close by brings in that second wind, and running over the bridge I remind myself to admire the sight of the bridge, the crowds, and soak up the cooling breeze of the Thames. The sun is still beating down, and although cloud cover is intermittent, it doesn’t help.

Half-way

Over the bridge and half way in 2.07. Off target for a sub 4hr run but given the heat I’ve already decided it’s not worth pushing too hard. Round to 14 and the best bit of the race – see my parents (who pass me the much reminded about Snickers bar) and a huge NSPCC cheer point – who cheer me like a world champion, and I run on feeling fed and loved. Only 12 miles to go!

On down Narrow Street (very narrow it is too) I spot Michelle Collins cheering people on, and start to overtake the people around me. Realising I’m being foolhardy, I rein it in and ease up, telling myself to slow down. Into Canary Wharf and the crowds show no signs of easing up (amazing!) and I take the opportunity to run through another fine mist shower system. Still so, so hot. In fact I have now seen several people being treated on the side of the road and it’s a good reminder to run sensibly.

Through the financial center I pass Kate Lawler who won Big Brother 3, and start to feel the pain. Just 6 miles to go and we’re going past Billingsgate market, very hot, very bland, very hard. Hamstrings getting tight now. Push on. If you’re going through hell, keep going.

Ah, yes, pain. Hello.

21 miles – only 5.2 to go. Only, ha. I don’t hit the wall here but I do realise my hamstrings are now hurting and there’s nothing I can do about it. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever give up. Just put one leg in front of the other and keep going. Nothing lasts forever.

23 miles and the crowds are huge. But, I’ll be honest, they’re doing nothing for me. This is an internal battle now. The pain v me. I will win. One leg in front of the other. Running through the last shower station makes me shiver, making me realise how low my energy reserves must be, despite the heat of the sun. Out of embankment tunnel I spy Big Ben – so close but so far…

Here I manage to miss my parents and and most friends, although see a few of them, as I internalise everything. Every cheer of ‘Come on Dan!’ is met with a ‘you bloody do it then!’ in my mind only of course.

Turning at Westminster. So tired. Someone shouts. 1km to go. Never, ever, ever, ever give up. I’ve run so many kilometers in this last 6 months, what’s one more? The photographers appear – what? Who placed them there! Force a smile. Just 600m to go. What, where was 800m? So glad to have missed it!

Then 400 to go. Then 385 yards. The turn on the Mall is blessed relief. I shout out ‘ohhhhhhhhhhhhh’ in a form of release to the pain and the joy the sight brings. For no reason I sprint to shave pointless seconds off my time and run with my arms aloft. Once over I put them down and acknowledge my legs’ calls for rest and stretching.

The end?

Utterly dazed and confused I take my medal, my bag, and find a place to lie down in St James’ Park. I’ve just run the London Marathon in 4.22.01. A few loo stops in there but who cares. In that heat I’m very pleased.

Today, Tuesday, and I feel strange. My legs are getting better and people are all very interested and quizzical but I just feel the same. I don’t feel like a hero or that I’ve done something life changing, or affirming, or anything. I don’t know. Perhaps I anticipated feeling like that when really not everyone will. Perhaps it’s too soon to know. I raised £1,901 for charity which is amazing and this makes me feel better than the idea of doing the run itself. Am I alone in having this almost post-marathon depression?

The big question is of course, will I enter next years? Maybe. It’s a commitment for sure, but it would be nice to go sub 4hrs…

Sprint finish

So here we are, just five days away from the London Marathon. It's been a hell of a journey.

I can vividly recall when I agreed to do it:

Int Shot: Two lazy people playing Pro Evo, a phone rings, I answer:

'Hello.'
'Hi Dan it's Will. Do you want to run the marathon next year? '(his voice intones 'this is just a token gesture, I don't expect you to say yes').
'Urm, yeah okay, why the hell not!'

A pause

'You do?'
'Yeah, do you have a place or something?'
'Er, yes, we can get places with the NSPCC.'
'Great, yep sign me up.'
'Oh...okay...'

Phone call ends.

Then four months later on a crisp September morning we set off on our first run. A full 800 meters around the block. We return exhausted, glistening with sweat, and having just been chastised by an old lady who said, 'come on keep going' as we laboured past her. (Where are you now O Mystic Wise Woman?)

Then it was, 'Did 20 minutes tonight and don't feel like I'm going to die. This is fun.' And on it went, 25 minutes, 35, 45, an hour! Then a 10k race at Finsbury Park (Time = 47mins 14 seconds), then another 10k back home in Cornwall - which became the basis for my first ever article on running - and was another 47 minutes, although on a very hilly course.

From here training intensified - 12 miles in 1hr 55 minutes felt like the end of the world, then I did a half-marathon in Watford - a lovely rolling, countryside course, and a sprint finish over the last 3 miles, passing hundreds of runners - a perfectly paced race and one of the best running moments to date.

Onwards! A 14 miler in the freezing rain, under-nourished, cursing every individual drop of rain that fell, but really knowing it was our own fault for not having prepared properly before going out - lesson learned, this is now a serious challenge and requires pre-run and post-run commitments. Fridge now forever stocked with sport drinks and cupboards bursting with Jelly Babies.

Then 16 miles, then a half-marathon at Silverstone. Race plan slightly off - too fast for 10 miles, although feel fine, then slow considerably over last three, to finish in a good time of 1.42, but think it would have been better if I had saved fuel for the end, rather than fading - another lesson learnt; the end if the hard part, not the start.

Then 18 miles - feel drunk on exhaustion come the end, but do realise we are running past the American Presidential house in Regent's Park and so next weeks 19.7 miler - a lot of hills on these runs too - sees us watching with interest as the police head hither and thither erecting anti-terrorist barriers and helicopters hover overhead. We carry on running, enjoying glimpses into London Zoo.

Then suddenly it's all over. Twenty miles is done and we've recovered. Now what? Now a party - to raise funds you see - and then that's it. A couple of eight milers ('nothing really', say the two runners who six months ago almost collapsed running 800m) and now we find ourselves simply counting down days, eating pasta dish after pasta dish, preparing for probably the hardest, but most anticipated challenge of a lifetime.

There's a lot I've left out too - the mid week evening runs over to Alexandra Palace with its stunning views of the city, the training day held by the NSPCC in January, the fantastic people I've met in the virtual world of Twitter who are also running the marathon, the strange sense that I'm actually rather enjoying all this running, the books I've read, the magazines, the times I've been on the JustGiving website the strange quirks of the body - give me Jelly Babies! - and the genuine buzz I've felt from raising over £1,500 for charityand the kindness of people in donating (especially in this credit crunch).

So - that's it. Sunday, 9.45am, 26.2 miles - what's left to say? Bring it on.

Free from running (sort of)

Another running post here - less than two weeks until the London Marathon now though so it's to be expected. Ran a nice nine miles in Cornwall on Sunday with a friend (who completed the Rome Marathon about two weeks ago in 4.19) around the highways and byways of the county which was very pleasant. A different experience to London that's for sure.

The tapering off period is bloody ace. My legs are fully recovered and feel good, and with just one run left - some sprint training penciled in (mentally) for tomorrow night - it will then just be a sit-back-and-relax until the big day, eating copious amounts of pasta and trying to get fund-raising heading towards the mythical £1,800. As you can see from the JustGiving widget on the side I'm inches short of £1,400 (feel free to push me over if thou wishest too).