There is little point staying in on a Saturday, particularly not when the weather continues to be very pleasant. But with Hebden Bridge itself a magnet for day trippers I’d rather go somewhere else. Atherton, near Wigan, is accessible from home on a direct train — that’ll do. And they seem rather proud of local lass Keely Hodgkinson, winner of Olympic gold in Paris (800m), but why not be?
The Manchester marathon took place in quite warm conditions and Alex definitely needed this assistance as he passed the 26-mile marker, thus, 385 yards to go. By the time she reached this point — over four hours later — Clare was also very much in need of some water, but she made it nevertheless, thus completing her second marathon after Edinburgh in May last year. That’s two more than I have ever done, or ever will do: even at walking pace (like, up a mountain or something) I see no need to ever propel myself 26.2 miles in one day. Well done to all who do so.
No apologies for putting up the cheesy-grin family shot today as the day was all about Clare, who ran her first ever marathon in a time of 6 hours and 1 minute. The Edinburgh marathon started in the city, headed out along the coast, turned around and came back as far as Musselburgh. This is Longniddry, where Joe and I caught up with her at about the 20 mile mark. She looked, as you can see, fresh as a daisy, and from this point on I had absolutely no doubt that she would finish. I know what this has taken in terms of training — an immense effort! And I am very sure it won’t be her last. (Will I be taking up the challenge? No chance.)
When this weekend in London was organised I had no idea that the London Marathon was being run this Sunday morning, although with hindsight, this certainly explained the dearth of hotel rooms. Never mind, it was nice to get out (albeit in the rain) to a point on the route relatively near to our accommodation and watch this massive river of people flow past: 45,000 people were participating, and we must have seen at least three-quarters of them come down the Woolwich Road. This photo was taken exactly 12 minutes after the leading men came past, so Amy’s doing pretty well.
I got pictures of a few Oslo landmarks today but I have chosen this one because, firstly, I sort of stumbled across the place, having taken a wrong turn on my walk back into the city after finishing work at the university (comfortably early, but that’s Norway for you, where they do things early — 11.30 is a typical time for lunch).
Second, this is the scene of something I remember watching at the time, and even then, aged 11, I thought it was quite impressive. With 32 years’ hindsight, what Sebastian Coe did on 10/6/81 must be counted as one of the most astonishing athletic performances of all time, setting a world record for the 800 metres (1:41.73) that was not beaten for 16 years and has still only been bettered twice. Which is quite mind-boggling, when you think about how records tend to fall in that sport. And here’s where it happened.
[Having checked these facts on Wikipedia I feel duty bound to point out that the women’s 800m record was set by Jarmila Kratochvila in 1983, which is, perhaps, even more amazing.]
Being 42 