Nick Peet's the Great 08tag:,2008:/4052008-05-20T10:03:43ZFrustrated sports writer Nick Peet is spending the next 12 months training full-time like a professional sportsman in a bid to compete in eight events to celebrate 08, Liverpool's Capital of Culture year. Keep up to date with his progress here . . .Movable Type 3.31tag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.473092008-05-20T10:03:34Z2008-05-20T10:03:43Z Hello, you either have JavaScript turned off or an old version of Macromedia's Flash Player. Get the latest Flash player. //...Nick Peet
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My pride at Jack's joytag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.472662008-05-19T20:22:04Z2008-05-19T20:24:56ZHORTON-CUM-PEEL won on his racing debut but had to wait a decade and even come out of retirement for his second win. Big Jack turned back the clock in style at Bangor-on-Dee as we romped home in first place in...Nick Peet
HORTON-CUM-PEEL won on his racing debut but had to wait a decade and even come out of retirement for his second win.
Big Jack turned back the clock in style at Bangor-on-Dee as we romped home in first place in the second part of my Great 08 Challenge on Saturday.
Six weeks’ intense training paid off in spades as we fought off the threat of my coach and mentor Will Kinsey aboard Hip Pocket – still fresh from their win at Cheltenham last week – and former champion amateur jockey Richard Burton on Willy Wong.
We led from the start and cut through the mud and rain like a hot knife through butter.
Together we realised the seemingly impossible and, most importantly, we enjoyed every single minute of it.
Jack, 13 and retired for a few years now, literally jumped at the chance to race again and was probably even more excited than me to be taking on the best in the business once again.
It may have all been over inside ten minutes but the experience will live with me, and Jack I believe, forever.
He was jumping around like a three-year-old after I climbed on him in the parade ring and we were led down to the track before jogging down in front of grandstand back towards the finish line.
Will and Richard were both looking pretty concerned as they circled around while Jack and I bounced towards the back rail.
Finally, after settling him a little, Will suggested I should steady Jack up and then get him going straight away. Then once I set off they would catch up.
Jack didn't need much encouragement.
He took off like a rocket and the rest of the world rapidly disappeared behind us.
For the first few seconds or hundred metres or so there was nothing else in my world except the big fella beneath me and the sodden turf 10 feet in front of us.
The gallops I've been running Jack on for the past few weeks seemed snail paced in comparison to the speed he set off with here.
It was as if he'd been restricted to four gears in training but knocked it straight into fifth from the get go when it came to racing for real.
Now 200 metres down the first straight my senses finally caught up and not a moment to soon.
As I finally glanced up further than a few feet in front of Jack's ears I noticed something long, dark and threatening looming ahead of us.
The advantage of my setting off first was so I could set a pace within my capabilities and so Jack would not race away with me. So much for forward planning.
The real problem with such a plan, however, was the small matter that I hadn't a clue where we were going.
Sure, Bangor racecourse is an oval shape but the actual track is broken up into three lanes. One with fences, one with hurdles and one – down the centre I soon learned – flat.
Me and Jack, with a good few lengths on Will and Richard, were careering down the fences route and the first was coming up thick and fast.
Luckily, no sooner had I realised what was racing towards us when I heard Richard, over my right shoulder, call to me to turn right and guide Jack around the fence.
His voice thankfully took away any real need for thought on my part – which was probably for the best under the circumstances – and with a little squeeze on my right rein Jack somewhat reluctantly missiled around the first and I could almost hear the sighs of relief from my loved ones in the stands now far behind us.
After a full day's racing the course was now pretty well cut up and the going was getting heavy, but Jack thundered through it like a stag and as we came off the first turn he kicked it up another notch towards the back straight.
By now I was conscious of Richard alongside us and sensed Willy Wong was keen to take Jack on along the straight.
But my new best pal wasn't about to let anybody spoil our day and, even though we were splashing through the mud, Jack stayed true and held the inside line.
I allowed myself a teasing glance across the course for a brief second as we approached the turn at the end of the back straight and was shocked by how quickly we had hit the furthest part of the track.
Thankfully, Hip Pocket's heavy panting behind us brought me back in time for the final turn and I gave Jack a little squeeze with my inner calves and, for the first time I have to admit, I even gave him a little reinn back and allowed him to really push on for the finish.
With Will nestled in behind us and calling out to me to go for it, our only threat came from Richard and Willy just half a length behind and to our right and more than capable of stealing our thunder.
However, Jack was back and had his ears pricked and eyes on the winner’s enclosure.
"There's the finishing post up ahead," Richard called out from behind (even he knew that victory was within our grasp now). "Push on now and go for it."
At that moment Jack's stride lengthened, I allowed the reins to slip slightly through my fingers and the grimace of concentration that had covered my face since we stepped out on the track was finally replaced by an ear-to-ear grin.
With less than 50 metres to go, the screams and cries from the gantry came into earshot and that stirred both of us even more. My heart soared.
For a brief second I contemplated punching the air like Will had done last week at Cheltenham, but fear of falling before the finishing line ensured I kept both hands on the reins.
Streaming past the finish post my own cries of victory washed out that of my friends and family. A wave of euphoria and relief washed over me, while Jack kept on striding and started to head back up towards that first fence again.
Had I not practically begged him to stop we'd probably have still been running this morning, he was that fresh and excited to be back.
We eventually rounded to turn back towards the stands and savour our moment.
Surprisingly, plenty of punters had also stuck around to watch my jockey efforts and Jack and I got a rousing reception as we were led back up from the track and into the parade ring, finally stopping in front of the winner’s position.
"Do a Frankie Dettorri!" called out one of my mates, who had been secretly hoping to see me tumble on the track and wanted a spill for his money.
But I slipped off Jack to one final cheer and gave him a well earned pat and a kiss.
Horton-Cum-Peel had come out of retirement for that swansong victory that he so richly deserved.
It was the proudest moment of my sporting life to go along for the ride.
Lean, mean stable diettag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.471362008-05-19T09:38:28Z2008-05-19T09:40:25ZIT’S official. I am now at my lightest weight in over a decade. Not since I borrowed my Dad’s best shirt to shake my thing in the old State club have I tipped the scales as light as I did...Nick Peet
Flat out for the race of my life
DURING my youth and, let's face it my sporting peak, I loved nothing more than that feeling and rolling emotion you get the night before a cup final or school sports day.
To know that you are within touching distance of achieving something memorable; lifting a trophy and testing yourself against athletes of a similar level and experience is something every competitive person thrives on.
But the insomnia I've been suffering this past week is as much to do with fear as it is with the looming competition on the horizon.
It's the type of fear you get when put into a scenario that is alien to you – almost like the mouth-drying hesitancy we experience when stepping onto a rollercoaster for the first time.
Sure, my gallop at Bangor on Dee is on the Flat and the pace will be some way off that of, say, the Gold Cup.
But still I'm going to be going flat out perched above a tiny piece of leather on the back of a galloping racehorse in front of a grandstand – when less than eight weeks ago I didn't even know how to do a rising trot.
If that's not something worth worrying about then what is.
Perhaps I should be grateful that my desperate lack of late night cheese ingestion – a block of red Leicester remains my most heartfelt culinary desire – is probably keeping the nightmares at bay.
Staring up at the ceiling at 1.00am trying to keep my heels down in the stirrups is one thing. Waking in a cold sweat at 4.00am after tumbling out of the saddle and straight out of my pit would be another thing entirely.]]>
Muddy splash has boosted my confidencetag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.467922008-05-14T18:20:42Z2008-05-14T18:23:34ZI'VE had another brilliant week in the saddle despite the fact that I started Bank Holiday Monday rolling around in the mud. My training yard, Peel Hall near Frodsham, had a really good week too with a placed horse at...Nick Peet
My bizarre jelly hangovers
SOMEHOW, somewhere I've picked up a nasty sweet tooth over the past few weeks.
I've always been so much more of a savoury kind of guy. Give me a good quality cheeseboard over a luxury chocolate cake any day of the week.
But, after discovering that jellies carry 0% of fat I've been unable to resist the urge to gorge myself on wine gums, jelly beans and jelly babies.
My teeth are taking a good kicking, but at least I am not putting on any weight and it's also solved my problem of bingeing late at night when I am bored.
The only problem is that jellies are terrible for you. You get a good solid sugar kick, but I've been crashing in the morning and waking up with bizarre Haribo hangovers.
I recall reporting on a world title fight almost 10 years ago when former WBU flyweight champion Peter Culshaw narrowly held onto his crown at Everton Park after 12 rounds with South African Zolile Mbityi.
'The Choirboy' was awful that night and had to come through the hard way to retain his crown before later revealing he had suffered stomach cramps throughout.
The problem? He had been munching through bag after bag of jelly beans before the fight.
Swing needs close attention
I AM meeting up with my tennis coach for the first time tonight for a knock about so he can judge exactly how much work we have to do before challenge three - to play a match at the Liverpool International Tournament - is served up in six weeks.
And hopefully things will go much better than my flirtation with challenge four at the weekend.
I dusted off my clubs and headed onto the first tee at Bowring Park on Saturday morning, taking advantage of the good weather with an easy four-ball with friends.
However, with the ladies competition breathing down our necks on the first tee the pressure of swinging a club for the first time since last summer ensured that the first couple of holes were complete right offs.
By the time we reached the fourth, played parallel to the M62, my team was already three holes down. But thankfully my trusty three wood came alive in the nick of time.
Unfortunately, my card was packed with a lot more bogeys than pars, while I never caught a glimpse of a birdie until I addressed the barmaid in the 19th hole.
I'm going to have to start hitting the fairways with a gusto if my plans to play a round at Royal Birkdale prior to the Open Championship in July are to be realised.
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British way is only pain in the backsidetag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.457632008-05-02T11:23:30Z2008-05-02T11:26:42ZIT'S the question seemingly on everyone’s lips right now, from my friends and family to all my work colleagues and even the young lad who was stocking the shelves in my local supermarket this week. But it's never, "So Nick,...Nick Peet
Student to study teacher in race action
I'VE been invited down to Eyton near Shrewsbury on Bank Holiday Monday to watch Will race in a point-to-point meeting aboard some of the horses from Peel Hall stables.
Would Wouldn't and Adams Wine are both pencilled in to run at the meeting and I am eager to get my first taste of a race event other than the Grand National Festival.
Let's face it, Aintree is like the FA Cup final of the racing world so it's going to be nice to check out the action of the lower leagues.
I am also hoping to get my hands dirty down there, although Will's mum Judith has already warned me not to get any big ideas.
More than anything though I am looking forward to seeing Will, who'll probably have half a dozen rides with horses from other stables too.
The student will definitely be taking notes on his Sensei.]]>
Have saddle will travel for a Bangor-on-Dee baptismtag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.450632008-04-23T23:44:34Z2008-04-23T23:45:30ZIT’S Bangor or bust for me as far as my horse racing challenge is concerned. I can confirm today that I will be donning my silks at the North Wales course on Saturday, May 17, in an after race gallop...Nick Peet
Peet and Barlow back in business
THE jigsaw will be back in the box this weekend when the dream Nick Peet - Stuart Barlow strike partnership returns to the field.
And I am hoping that my new weight loss and fitness regime will help me shine on Sunday when I figure in an annual charity football match.
Every year a string of Echo journo’s take on doctors and staff from Aintree University Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust in a match to help raise awareness of bowel cancer.
Both sides are helped out by a good sprinkling of former Everton, Liverpool and Tranmere players.
Last year I had the pleasure of playing alongside Ian Rush - and even stuck one past Eric Nixon after stumbling around Alan Kennedy!
Once again the field will be packed with ex-pros this weekend, but last year a much chunkier version of myself ran riot in the Echo rout thanks mainly to the service from former Blues striker Barlow.
The match is on Sunday at the Liverpool University playing fields on Mather Avenue in Allerton. Gates open at 1pm, followed by kick-off at 2pm.
The family day is free to attend and includes health awareness stands, face painting, a Wembley shoot-out, and a refreshment bar.]]>
Progress can be judged by cowboy waddletag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.434812008-04-08T09:25:22Z2008-04-08T09:30:03ZJUST four weeks after my Half Marathon exploits, I was back hobbling around the office yesterday after kicking my horse riding training up a notch. After my enjoyable leisurely strolls along the beach during week one, this week I have...Nick Peet
Racing will be top priority
WITH the Grand National Festival kicking off today (what? you hadn't noticed) I've found myself glued to the Racing Channel and racing pages ahead of the world's greatest steeplechase.
I'm hoping to show my face at the course tomorrow, but I must confess that for the first time in 10 years of Friday attendance my attention will be fixed on the jockeys and horses so much more than the spectacle off the track.
Ladies’ Day for me has always been about just two things (ahem!), chasing the best bets and drinking beer and bubbly with friends.
But tomorrow I know I am going to be glued to the rails as I take in up close my latest challenge.
I'm also going to be sticking almost religiously to betting on horses from the McCain family stable as they've been brilliant with advice so far.
My fiver will certainly be on Cloudy Lane on Saturday.
Council gym gesture just great
DESPITE my riding lessons I've still been sticking with my irregular gym sessions and to my non-fat diet.
Okay, so I had a few last Sunday, but it was derby day and whether you are Blue or Red a few beers is a necessity to keep the fingernails from getting chewed off.
Anyway, after accepting that for the rest of the year I was going to be something of a gym gypsy as I move around the city, training with the best athletes and coaches possible, the city council lent their support this week.
I was presented with a 12-month Lifestyles pass which means I can use any council gym in the city, which is really going to assist me in keeping in shape.
Practically all of the Lifestyles gyms have enjoyed modern makeovers in recent months so I couldn't ask for more, with each centre boasting specialised equipment for various sports.
I am especially looking forward to a swim in the new 50m Olympic-style pool this weekend.
Not only is that going to help relax my aching muscles, but the pool is also where I plan on doing most of my training towards challenge number six, the Cross Mersey Swim in August.
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Learning to cantertag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.432622008-04-04T15:06:32Z2008-04-04T15:21:13ZClick to view my new video:...Nick Peet
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My one afternoon stand with Mollytag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.426512008-03-28T20:21:30Z2008-04-04T15:08:08ZFINALLY, I got back in the saddle this week, but my leisurely hack among the sand dunes was as far away from the thunder of the pack at Aintree as horse riding could possibly get. Still, it was a relief...Nick Peet
FINALLY, I got back in the saddle this week, but my leisurely hack among the sand dunes was as far away from the thunder of the pack at Aintree as horse riding could possibly get.
Still, it was a relief to simply be holding reins at last, regardless of what was biting down on the other end of them.
After being glued to the thrills of Cheltenham a fortnight ago, however, Tuesday's trot was yet another sobering wake-up call to the challenge ahead of me.
The prospect of riding a real racehorse right now is certainly daunting to say the least.
But we all start back somewhere and for me that was among the schoolgirls and their ponies on Meols beach.
The staff at Jo Mason School of Riding at Park Lane Liveries heard my cries for help last week and kindly invited me to join one of their Easter Holiday hacks aboard big old girl, Molly.
Like in life, it was nice to start out again with the help of a female with a little bit of experience. Tall, leggy with huge eyes and massive lips and with greying hair. Safe to say that Molly was certainly of the type I usually go for.
And this old girl wasn't about to start doing any party tricks that's for sure.
She was content enough plodding along the dunes but any encouragement to break into a trot was met with a half hearted response, followed by a swift nibble at my toes.
I didn't even attempt the gallop. She certainly wasn't in the mood for any of that and after a couple of days neglecting my strict diet at the weekend I could hardly blame her.
She'd been saddled to entertain some out of shape middle aged suit, not a Frankie Dettori wannabe.
But her stubborn attitude didn't stop me from drifting off to my little fantasy world while looking out at the bitterly cold Irish Sea.
Plodding along the fringes of the beach, I couldn't help but recall the famous black and white photographs of Red Rum training on the sand over the other side of the bay back in the Seventies.
With a tiny jockey perched on his back and that famous stripy blanket, those shots are synonymous with the Grand National magician’s iconic career and, just for a second, I was there with Rummie on a swift dash along the water’s edge.
Back in the real world though, Molly's heartfelt desires lay not with the world's greatest steeplechase but, after a long winter munching hay, the lush green grass now breaking through the dunes.
But as the lads down at the gym always say, 'a rides a ride' and I think that after our leisurely two-hour ordeal was over both Molly and I were happy to go our separate ways.
A bit of a ‘one afternoon stand’.
SPECIAL WORD OF WARNING
THE big guy (or gal) upstairs enjoys nothing better than throwing down a life lesson or two just when we need it and I was handed a painful one this week.
As I sat majestically aboard my steed on Tuesday, confidence and authority growing with every step, I was shown a sign of what can happen when things go a little wrong.
Our hacking group bumped into a throng of teenage girls and their prancing ponies at the end of the dunes and we decided to walk back along the beach together.
However, one little girl, quick as a flash, ended up flat on her back with her pony on top of her after the little thing reared up and fell backwards.
Thankfully, after one or two tears, both were fine. But it was right in front of me and for a few minutes all I could think of was the damage a fully grown horse like the one I was aboard could do to me if the same thing happened.
There would be more than a few tears that's for sure.
In my current svelte condition I'd be lucky to escape with a broken leg the way they went over.
A message to the enlightened one . . . "Thanks for the sign. Duly noted."
LET'S WARM TO A BETTER DEAL
ONE thing I have noticed after losing over a stone is how cold this month has been.
Last year I can recall rolling my sleeves up and sporting shades at Aintree, but I can only imagine a sea of brollies at the festival this year.
I am wearing thermal T-shirts and vests every day now to substitute the spare tyres that I have lost, while the extra padding lost from my backside is certainly being missed.
The seat on the gym’s exercise bike now feels like it is cast out of granite, while the prospect of many more hours in the saddle has already got me reaching for the pain killers.
A pair of padded cycling shorts is definitely top of the wish list now. Along with a little sunshine.
Gym’ll fix it.
I'm running out of horse power!tag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.420772008-03-23T18:28:52Z2008-04-04T15:08:08ZALL the fitness training, the dieting and hard work is to no avail as the closest I have come to climbing into a saddle has been the quality time I spent with the statue of Red Rum last week. I...Nick Peet
ALL the fitness training, the dieting and hard work is to no avail as the closest I have come to climbing into a saddle has been the quality time I spent with the statue of Red Rum last week.
I had hoped to get stuck into some refresher riding lessons over the next fortnight, all building towards next month when I link up with one of the country's best loved jump stables to begin my training proper.
But I seem to have fallen at the first hurdle with my horse racing challenge.
Six public stables in and around the Merseyside area were unable to accommodate me with an animal capable of supporting my even slimmed down ample frame.
Not one of the stables I’ve contacted over the last week or so could rustle up a steed willing to take yours truly on a couple of leisurely trots.
I'm only six two and, these days, coming in under 13 stone it's not like I am Andre the Giant or Big Daddy or anything.
The obvious question is, how did the equestrian world become so Fat-ist!
Where do grown men whose mid-life crisis has given them a sudden penchant to learn to ride go locally to fulfil their desires?
In three weeks time, I will be standing nose to tail with an elite racehorse. He'll be turning around, taking one look at me and thinking, "don't even think about it, soft lad."
I had hoped that a couple of weeks mixing it in the lower leagues would help me build the confidence to mutter back, "I'm your daddy now, Mr Ed!"
But having hit a brick wall in my training programme my confidence ahead of next month's horse racing challenge is at its lowest ebb.
So today I am making a public appeal to ECHO readers and stables across the region to come to my aid.
All I am after is a handful of lessons, some gentle trots and comfortable gallops to help me get back on the bike, if you know what I mean.
Hopefully, a stable or private owner can come to my rescue. over the next fortnight That way, I won't have to turn up at a professional stable not having been aboard a horse for many years.
SEEING FRUITS OF MY LABOURS
I HAD what addicts call a sobering moment on Monday when I got to the checkout at the supermarket and thought I'd walked away with someone else's trolley.
Stirring down at my goods I had to do a double take.
It was just eight weeks ago that my purchases included all the wonders of the modern world.
Frozen pizzas, Doritos, Babybell, home-made Fajita packs, cheese slices, jammie dodgers and, of course, a couple of eight packs.
But all those goodies have now firmly been replaced by what I used to describe simply as rabbit food.
There was a time I never lingered within firing distance of the fruit and veg. Now, I am squeezing melons and smelling peppers en route to filling my bags.
I didn't even venture close to the frozen section.
And after tipping the scales in the gym at the weekend at a lean, mean 12st 8lbs, at least my weight issues are in control, even if my racing training programme failed to clear the first fence!
IN THE SWIM TO STEP UP FITNESS
THE opening of the new Olympic size 50 metre swimming pool in Wavertree is going to go a long way with my fitness training for the rest of the year and also training for challenge number six.
Olympic champion Steve Parry may have few qualms about our race across the River Mersey in August, but it's fair to say that I have already had one or two sleepless nights, as well as much ribbing from friends, regarding the tidal swim.
I wasn't a bad little swimmer as a kid, but these days the only time I ever take a dip is during my two-week summer holiday or on the odd occasion I pluck up the courage to suck the belly in at the gym.
I am sure getting to grips with the city's finest new leisure facility will help take my fitness up another level.
Nothing beats swimming when it comes to cardio training, and I am also looking forward to testing my nerves by diving off the high board as well!
Reality starting to bite on 08 dreamtag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.410302008-03-11T09:49:48Z2008-04-04T15:08:08ZREALITY bit down hard on Sunday. It creeped up behind me, just when I was starting to get a little cocky, and took a huge chunk out of my rear end. The next 11 months may, on the face of...Nick Peet
REALITY bit down hard on Sunday. It creeped up behind me, just when I was starting to get a little cocky, and took a huge chunk out of my rear end.
The next 11 months may, on the face of it, represent a fairytale of sporting oportunity, but, let’s face facts, it's going to be tough. Really tough.
Through my entire life I have played sport for the enjoyment of it. I try to play with a smile on my face (although the lads on the football pitch will disagree) and I participate because I love it.
That's something that has grown with me from childhood. Back to the old jack of all sports, master of none shortcoming.
And it's always been about the fun of the game and, in the first instance at least, that was supposed to be the whole point of my 08 Challenge.
To take part in all these events at the highest possible level and to have the time of my life in the process. To not only challenge myself but to take advantage of the unique position I was in.
To utilise the contacts I've made over the past decade covering sport on Merseyside to live the dream of competing just like a professional sportsman.
But, I have to confess, somewhere between miles 11, 12 and 13 during the Liverpool Half Marathon on Sunday the charm of the challenge was replaced by pain, suffering an almost overwhelming desire to crawl back behind my Press pass.
I wasn't smiling and joking around with my mates. I was alone, committed to a task that I certainly wasn't in love with.
Over the last few weeks I'd fooled myself with the enormity of the challenge I've set myself this year.
On Sunday things started to get ugly and it was my first real insight into sport at the highest level. It certainly isn't always about fun.
It's about digging deep, relying on the work you've put in during training, and getting the job done to the best of your ability.
Forget about the fact that around 80% of the field in Sunday's half marathon are fun runners, people running for charity or just for the hell of it, it's also used by a fair sprinkling of serious athletes as a part of their domanding athletics season.
And that's not only athletes from Liverpool, but from across the country and indeed the world.
Now I know why. Even half marathons are not for the faint-hearted.
I accept my time can hardly be called competitive, but to have finished in little more than two hours after just four weeks of training is something I am definitely proud of.
I've lived and trained like a serious athlete for a month and dropped the best part of a stone in body weight while also sending my fitness levels through the roof.
My Great 08 Challenge then is now in full swing.
But athletics was always going to be a tough start for me.
When school sports days rolled around you'd always find young Master Peet circling the high jump or javelin traps.
I've never been much of a runner. Neither has anyone in my family. I guess my clan was built for speed rather than stamina.
Plus, having bow legs and flat feet was never going to help either.
But what the athletics challenge has certainly done is set me up for the next 11 months of competition.
My fitness is probably at its strongest since I was a teenager and will only improve while my new roadwork regime will form the backbone of my training programme for the rest of the year.
I am under starter’s orders . . . roll on challenge number two.
Half Marathon videotag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.405382008-03-05T10:34:58Z2008-04-04T15:23:06ZClick to view the Half Marathon Video...Nick Peet
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Toughest test of my life!tag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.404092008-03-04T07:07:11Z2008-04-04T15:08:08ZYOU just can’t argue with science. As fossils confirm that dinosaurs once walked the earth and evolution explains how man grew from ape – my blood tests stated that I would never break the two hour barrier in yesterday’s Liverpool...Nick Peet
YOU just can’t argue with science.
As fossils confirm that dinosaurs once walked the earth and evolution explains how man grew from ape – my blood tests stated that I would never break the two hour barrier in yesterday’s Liverpool Half Marathon.
And so it proved.
My finishing time of two hours nine minutes was the very best I could have mustered, believe me. I’ve got the throbbing thighs to prove it.
Admittedly, 2:08 was probably on the cards in the closing stages, only I slowed down inside the last mile to chat up a struggling brunette.
But apart from that brief respite I was going flat out from start to finish.
Exercise physiologist George Wilson did all the tests last week and he advised me to stick to a heart rate of 161bpm before kicking in for the last mile in order to achieve my best time.
However, with my old pal Jack Walker – a veteran of the 13.1 mile race – alongside me it was inevitable that I would have to run at a much quicker pace to give myself a chance at my original target.
Nine minute miles would just about work, but after completing the first half of the course that time quickly began to slip away.
My pacemaker insisted we up the pace, but with my heart now pushing 171bpm, I knew that the excess lactic acid in my blood stream would be eating away at my strength.
The course was also a gruelling one.
Last year there were plenty of long straight runs to open the legs, but this year the course was forced to change and it left the near 4,000 strong field to do laps around south Liverpool.
It seemed like every time I caught a glimpse of Sefton Park – home to the start/finish line – the course veered away again, either round Princes Park, up Queens Drive or in and out of the park itself.
I had planned to save a little in the tank for the last mile or so and, believe me, the sight of that giant yellow 12 mile marker was like catching a glimpse of the Victoria’s Secret models’ changing rooms.
But while the head was willing the legs, from the hips down, were simply running on empty.
I’ve played extra time in cup matches and even competed in other sports for much longer than two hours straight.
But fatigue has never caught up with me as quickly as in this run.
One minute I was striding down Duke Street flirting with a group of nurses.
The next I was fighting back the tears as the course again turned away from the finish line.
I’d been advised to carry a packet of wine gums for a little sugar kick along the route, but by the last mile I was too exhausted even to chew!
By the 10 mile marker Jack suggested we target a much more reasonable two hours eight minutes target – which also doubled as being the ideal time for my Great 08 opener.
However, the final few miles sucked the life from my legs.
My lower back and neck were starting to feel as battered as my legs, while though my nose was running like a broken tap, my saliva glands had given up a couple of miles before.
In the end it quickly became just a matter of getting through it.
But I never stopped. I never walked and of that, at least, I am proud of myself.
Two finish just seconds outside of the 2.08 barrier was, initially, disappointing, but that soon changed when I saw friends and family overjoyed with the mere fact that I had finished the race.
In hindsight, to have gone from you average couch potato, playing five-a-side once a week, an out of shape sports hack to finishing a half marathon in just four weeks gives me a great sense of achievement.
And also a new respect for distance runners.
Hats off to anyone who has ever completed a full marathon. That’s an unbelievable human feat – and one that you only really appreciate when you have had a taste of it.
Competition marathon runners must have unbelievable fitness and an incredible dedication to put their bodies through that regularly. In fact, let’s not beat about the bush here, they must be nuts!
So, now terribly sore but with a few quid in the bank for the Liverpool Unites campaign, I am happy.
Happy to have finished the longest and toughest sporting challenge of my life (so far) and also happy to have kicked my Great 08 Challenge off with a convincing performance.
That’s one down . . . seven to go.
* Don’t miss my Great 08 Challenge column in the ECHO on Thursday for the inside track and aftermath pain from my half marathon achievement.
Defiance in the face of sciencetag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.402282008-03-01T11:11:13Z2008-04-04T15:08:08ZSCIENTIFICALLY it can’t be done – but then didn’t they first say that about putting a man on the moon; splitting the atom and enhancing breasts with silicone? According to science I am unable to complete my first challenge in...Nick Peet
SCIENTIFICALLY it can’t be done – but then didn’t they first say that about putting a man on the moon; splitting the atom and enhancing breasts with silicone?
According to science I am unable to complete my first challenge in the time I have set myself.
Running 13.1 miles in under two hours may be a doddle for some seasoned runners, but for me the science states the facts and right now I’m simply not fit enough to achieve it.
At my final pre-race medical with exercise physiologist George Wilson on Tuesday the facts brought home a heavy truth.
Yes, I had lost the best part of 10lbs; yes, I am certainly fitter than I was four weeks ago and I have cut my body fat percentage down to 16% – but I’m still not quite fit enough to make 13.1 miles in under 120 minutes.
Now, 128 minutes, that’s a different matter and that is exactly what my body says I am capable of.
After going through a rigorous treadmill test, where I gave a blood sample and had my heart rate monitored every two minutes as I steadily increased the speed, George was able to do a full breakdown of my optimum working level.
When your body starts producing too much lactic acid ( four millimoles) the muscles tire and before long the curtains get drawn.
So, the idea with this test was to discover my optimum workrate that operates just under that point and, for me, that is when my heart is pumping at 161bpm.
My body told me that if I keep up a steady pace at that heart rate – around 10km per hour – then I should complete 12.2 miles of Sunday’s Liverpool Half Marathon in exactly two hours.
But that will still leave me with ¾ of a mile to go.
Mission impossible then?
However, all is not lost, and what all the tests and sports science in the world cannot possibly predict is that for the last mile or so I am going to leg it!
Not surprisingly, George doesn’t share my optimism.
“All I can recommend is that you stick to your 161bpm heart rate otherwise you’ll tire so fast that you think you’ve been shot – that’s a promise,” he stated, like a granddad warning a little boy to stay off the train tracks.
“If you stay at your optimum level, and then get on your toes, really empty your locker, in the last mile – when it won’t matter how much lactic acid you’re producing – then you may finish in around two hours and eight minutes.
“But, if I am honest, you’re going to struggle to do it in under two.”
Crestfallen, I need help.
So I’ve roped in a couple of friends to help me achieve the seemingly unachievable.
Liverpool’s leading Olympic track star and Merseyside athlete of the year, Michael Rimmer, says that the big occasion should carry me along, but also warned against starting too quickly.
The Southport track star, Team GB’s number one 800m runner, started too quickly in the semi-finals of the World Championships in Japan last summer, and ended up watching the final from the stands.
He said: “The bigger the occasion the better you will usually run. I know that’s often the case with me. But it gets to you.
“I got carried away with thinking I would have to run faster than I actually did out in Osaka. I’m not a front runner but the adrenaline got to me and I decided to go for it.
“I was confident I could hold it but doing it in front of 50,000 with the Olympic champion running you down is a different matter to doing it in training.
“I was running scared and over the last 200m I was just waiting for them to pass me. With all that nervous energy I tightened up.
“If I had just sat with the pack I’m sure I would have qualified.
“That’s what you have to do. Stay with the pack and then push on in the closing stages and that’s how you will achieve your best time.”
I’ll also have my old mate Jack Walker, who has run the Liverpool Half Marathon twice in the past, including finishing last year’s in under two hours, alongside me and ready to push me over the finish line.
But what I also need is ECHO readers to get behind me as well.
If you’re planning on watching a friend or family member pound the pavement this Sunday then please give me a cheer and help me attempt to prove that anything is possible with a little hard work.
Curry and pizza setback – but I’m still in the runningtag:great08.merseyblogs.co.uk,2008://405.402272008-03-01T11:09:46Z2008-04-04T15:08:08ZTALK about falling off the wagon . . . I was elbows deep in naan bread and curry at the weekend! Shedding 10lbs in my first three weeks clearly went straight to my head. On Friday night I kicked back...Nick Peet
TALK about falling off the wagon . . . I was elbows deep in naan bread and curry at the weekend!
Shedding 10lbs in my first three weeks clearly went straight to my head. On Friday night I kicked back with a rewarding home-made chicken balti.
The ingredients were practically all on my diet list – chicken breast, vegetables, rice – but I think the old stir-in sauce was a definite no-no.
And if that wasn't bad enough, after a crazily busy day on Saturday, I really let my guard down and polished off a sweet chilli chicken pizza!
What can I say? I just had to get my cheese fix before the cold turkey killed me.
It was only a frozen one I found nestling under a bag of veg in the bottom of the freezer, but still it can't have been good for my weight loss programme.
Needless to say, I felt rather bloated by the time the birds started singing on Sunday morning – but I still managed to tackle the biggest run of my life so far when I sailed through a surprisingly comfortable nine-miler.
The time, 90 minutes, was hardly electric but I felt strong to the end and didn't even have to take a planned water break at a shop along the way.
Running nine miles is something I never even imagined before I started this challenge.
I mean, seriously, why would you?
But I think I am slowly getting the jogging bug and it really helps clear the head from the stresses of daily life.
I was putting the world to rights on Sunday while I was plodding past the Garden Festival site.
It's just a shame that I didn't have a pen at hand or there may well have been a sequel to War and Peace in the pipeline.