Re: Bob's Bits.

The original 'Robert's Bits...In four parts....I'll post the next installment tomorrow....

My Life in Bits - Part 1 – Black Sunday

I pulled hard on my cigarette, I could feel the effect of the smoke on my lungs, I could taste the tobacco in my nostrils, it made me go slightly light headed. A smoke after a run was like your first ever cigarette, ecstasy. I sipped on a half pint glass of water but I wasn’t all that thirsty, I had taken water with me on my local 13 mile run on quiet country roads, past farmhouses and growing fields of corn and barley. The early morning weather was perfect for long distance running, cloudy and not too hot and not too cold.
It was Sunday 30th May 2004, a day that I will never forget, because as I stood in the kitchen looking out of the window I began to feel more than light headed. My legs were turning to rubber and unable to support my weight, I was seeing things in black and white and my face became cold. I reached for a chair before I fell, and flopped down, sweat ran off my forehead like a running tap as I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. It began to pass, and I could once again see in colour, Sue’s voice echoed into my head from the end of a long tunnel “are you alright Rob?” she asked “Yes” I replied, “low blood sugar.” Sometimes after a hard run it’s possible to pass out as blood sugar drops to an all time low. I rose from my chair but the feeling returned, Sue was getting concerned, but I assured her if I could just lay flat on the floor it would pass. As I lay face up on the lounge carpet I could hear Sue on the phone to our daughter, I felt a great weight pressing down on my chest, and after every breath out it seemed impossible to breath in. My left arm and hand were becoming numb, and a darkness began to descend, the last words I heard were, “I’m going to have to go now Marie, your Dad is having a heart attack”!
How had it come to this? What had gone so horribly wrong? I was so fit. The heart attack had come as some surprise to everybody who knew me, but the biggest surprise, or should I say shock, was to me. I had been a runner for 26 years, since 1978. I was working in an engineering factory at the time, and one of my friends was getting married at the weekend, we thought it best to have his bachelor night on the Thursday before. Wise choice, because the next morning only five people turned in for work out of twenty. Paracetamol and Alka Selzer was the preferred breakfast. Robert Patterson, one of the survivors, used to go out jogging occasionally and suggested that I might try jogging when I got home to remove the stubborn headache that had blighted me all day. It would require some consideration, only after I had exhausted some perhaps less energetic solutions. I arrived home later that day and announced to my amused daughter and wife that I would indeed go for a jog. I laced on some old plimsolls, baggy bottoms and a Mallorca tee shirt, and on Friday 28th July 1987 I took my first ever serious run. I jogged up the street to the lane, and after making sure there would be no witnesses, or dog walkers, as they are sometimes known, I injected a turn of speed Seb Coe would have been proud of. It lasted for about 400 yards when my way was barred by a railway crossing gate, I clung on to the gate to support my weight, I thought I was going to die, I was struggling to pull large amounts of oxygen into my gasping lungs, my pulse banged in my ears and my throat burned with abuse from a thousand fags. I limped back home and collapsed on the sofa while Sue filled a hot bath. As I submerged my broken body into the warm caressing water, I realised that my headache had gone, not only that, I felt a calmness and contentment that I had never experienced before.
Over the weeks that followed I ran every other day up to that gate, I even continued further down the lane to a large post, which I measured with my car, it was as far as you could get on four wheels, and it came out at just one mile. With Robert Patterson and a couple of other work colleagues we had already completed some good long fell walks, the most notable was The Lyke Wake Walk, 42 miles over the North Yorks Moors from Osmotherly to Ravenscar on 28th June 1980. The Lyke Wake would inspire me to complete further attempts, but more about that later. I had found that just running two miles every other day, greatly enhanced my walking pleasure. It was on one sunny evening after work as I was jogging my usual two miles down the lane, that I met a runner coming in the opposite direction, as I was close to the mile marker I turned and jogged back to the village with him, and we chatted. He told me that he had gone all the way round, and that it was possible to make a circuit up by running to the next village. It would be five miles. It had permeated my sponge like head, and on my next run I successfully navigated the route, after that day in April 1981, I very rarely ran the two mile course again. I joined the Long Distance Walking Association in September 1981, and regularly attended walks they organised.
By the start of 1983 I had successfully completed another three Lyke Wakes, and several other long distance paths. I even had a failed attempt at a Lyke Wake Double, there and back in forty eight hours (84 miles). But my running had up to now, only been used to enhance my walking. That was about to change.

Re: Bob's Bits.

Correction.....Sorry.. I was just reading through and my first ever run was in 1978 and not 1987.

Re: Bob's Bits.

The Second part of 'My Life In Bits' part one.

I had been reading about a Half Marathon (13.1 miles) that was being staged in Doncaster. It would start in Rossington, and finish at the famous Doncaster Race Course. Dare I enter? I had walked a lot further than this, and although I had even run distances of up to eleven miles, this would be an all out road race. The race took place on the 24th April 1983 and I ran a splendid time of 1 hour 37 minutes. I was still more fell walker than runner, and so on June 25th 1983 after being driven by a friend to the start of the Lyke Wake Walk at Ravenscar, I set my watch, and at 10:00 am jogged away from the start of my fifth crossing. The bogs were dry and firm, and the weather was cloudy and cool, and after a fine run, at 6:30pm I reached the finish at the Sheepwash car park in Osmotherly. 42 miles in eight and a half hours. I had been introduced to Len Mackie, who worked with my mother on the buses, he had run several marathons and was keen to break the elusive three hour barrier. He became a great friend, and we ran together on many occasions. He was mainly a road runner, but on hearing about my exploits on the fells from my mum, he wanted to have a go at fell running. But for me 1983 was not over yet, and on the 3rd September at midday, I lined up at the start of my most gruelling challenge yet. The Bullock Smithy was a fifty six mile race to be completed within twenty four hours. Some of the route would have to be navigated in the dark, and as such, survival rations must be carried, with warm clothing and other safety Items. Checkpoints had to be visited at about five mile intervals in order to be logged in and out. I walked a lot on this one and finished in 19 hours 44 minutes, the friend I started with, Peter McWilliam, who was a fast walker rather than a runner called it a day after about half way, and I ended up jogging to the finish with a very friendly Spanish guy. We managed 109th position out of 162.
April 1984 saw me again lining up for the start of the Leger Half Marathon in Doncaster, I managed to wipe off six and a half minutes from my previous time, and finished in 1 hour 30 minutes in a position of 807 out of 3280. Len had been teaching me about road running, and I was about to introduce Len to the Lyke Wake. On the 16th June 1984 Len and I crossed in 12 hours, that would be my sixth.
Peter McWilliam did eventually complete the Bullock Smithy with me later that year in sixteen hours.
It was during my third Bullock Smithy with Peter, in 1985 that I met an extra special friend.
We had been making good progress and had covered about 35 miles, darkness had descended on us, and I had stopped for a call of nature, Peter carried on and I had to tread them in to catch him. He had caught up to a straggler and they were walking and talking, when I arrived Peter said “do you know this bloke?” Turns out he only lived four miles away from me in Doncaster and we had never met. It was Jim Fletcher and this would be the beginning of some great and wild adventures together. Jim and I ended up doing the next five Bullock Smithy’s together in my best time of 10 hours 13 minutes for the 56 miles, and a best position of 10th out of a total of 177 successful competitors. Some other organised walks and runs up to the end of 1985 were: The Three Peaks of Yorkshire, 26 miles in 9 hours: The Saltersgate Circuit, 26 miles in 4 hours 49 minutes: The North York Moors Crosses, 53 miles in 13 hours 30 minutes: The Bilsdale Circuit, 30 miles: Several West Cleveland Circuits, 26 miles and other assorted road and fell runs. Most were completed with Len and Jim.
On Wednesday 28th May 1986, Len, Jim and myself set off on an attempt to do a Lyke Wake Double. It was a gruelling 84 mile challenge that had to be completed in under 48 hours. After running the first crossing in about 10 hours, and resting for 3 hours at Ravenscar, we were down to a walk on most of the return journey, we completed the double in 30 hours 45 minutes, the hardest thing I have ever done.
This would be the last time I had the pleasure of running with the late Leonard Mackie.
It would not be the last time in 1986 that I was tested to the limit. After just six weeks recovery I decided to tackle the annual Lyke Wake Race. For one day every year they supported runners to race the 42 mile route, but because it was supposed to be a race, you were only allowed 12 hours to complete, after this, support would be withdrawn and you were on your own. I managed to run the distance in 6 hours and 48 minutes to come 40th out of 97 competing. I ran the race every year after that up to 1996. Posting a best time of 6 hours and 1 minute in 1991, and a best position of 7th on my last race in 1996.
1986 also held another first for me, on the 28th September I ran the Nottingham Robin Hood Marathon and managed a creditable time of 3 hours 21 minutes. Over the next ten years I would run a total of 36 full marathons, including, The London Marathon, Snowdon Marathon and 8 Robin Hood Marathons. My best Marathon time was 3 hours done on the Telford Marathon in May 1991.

Apart from the events mentioned, there have been hundreds of miscellaneous road and fell races on all types of terrain. I have always had a passion for hills, so in August 1990 I took part in the Buttermere Horseshoe, a 20 mile fell race that takes in some of the highest peaks in the Lake District.
I think you now get the picture why it was such a shock to be cut down in my prime.
I was made redundant from a job I had been in for 22 years, a job I could do standing on my head, so all my energy went into running, it was top priority, or so I thought. In April 1994 after being given the chop, I did not run another event for the rest of the year. Don’t misunderstand though, I continued to train as normal in those dark days. It was in June 1995 that I returned to running events with the Stamford 20K, and then a procession of Half Marathons and other distances. Having returned to full time employment, I was back in the mix. But in 1996 after finishing in the top three on The Peakland Heritage (36 mile) and running my last Lyke Wake Race and Full Marathon, I resigned myself to running distances up to Half Marathon (13 miles). By March 2004 I had completed 50 Half Marathons, the fastest being Worksop 1987 in a time of 1 hour 23 minutes. If I appear to be boasting or bragging I’m sorry, it’s not intended. I just want to put some background perspective on what brought me to be stretched out on the lounge carpet with my life ebbing away. I never gave it a thought that life could be taken away so remorselessly, whoever and whatever you are. If there is one thing I have learned, I am not immortal. But I thought I was.

Re: Bob's Bits.

Entry:-120415
After waiting for Kismet this morning, finally at 6:45am I decided to go alone. Last nights weather report wasn't favourable for this mornings ten mile run, and so while it was fine, thought I'd better get it done. No sun, and heavy black clouds scurried across the sky, the brisk cold breeze punished any exposed flesh, hands, face and legs. As soon as I stepped outside I was aware of the many birds singing and whistling to welcome the dawn, but to me, it was a lackluster affair. I plodded out past the silent church, over the level crossing, and into the empty country. It was beginning to look quite summery with green shoots on the hedgerows now becoming quite visible, and providing shelter to the many birds residing there. With no rain to speak of for a while, the roads and lanes were firm and dry, and by the time I reached the canal bank I was warm and comfortable in my own little environment. Up to now my pace had been relaxed and easy, so as I jogged along the soft grassy section I notched up the speed, and it felt good. With no signs of tiredness or discomfort I arrived at the little kissing gate slightly out of breath but happy there was plenty in the tank. The clouds were still heavy as I passed through the gate and on to the road, the breeze had been at my back for the last two miles, and was probably responsible for the surge in speed, I ran past Sandra's house and turned the corner on to the long straight bit. With no urgency my shoes tapped out a rhythm on the tarmac, my mind switched from Sandra to the many times I had jogged down here while doing the school cross country; I hated it, now I willingly take the same course and love it.
I cross over a canal bridge and look left and right down the towpaths, they are perfectly straight and disappear into the green haze in the distance, not a soul walking on them this morning, and it gives me an idea for a future run. I have run them many times in the past while training for marathons, but it's been a while. Everywhere I run brings back memories of training past, but I am brought back to earth as I approach the farm where three wild dogs live and they have given chase on previous occasions, baring their teeth and growling in anger. The drive is empty of hounds and I feel relieved, once again my concentration returns to my running. A young lady in a car passes in the opposite direction and she raises her hand, I wave back, only the second car I've seen all morning, I've seen her before on this stretch of quiet back road, I think she is a carer visiting clients who live out in the country. Back at the level crossing just before the village, I see an approaching runner, It's Keith, about the same age as me and someone who I have enjoyed events with over the years, we greet each other and high five as we pass, neither wanting to interrupt a good pace, and it is a good pace, with no sign of tiredness I accelerate through the village, I feel strong and surprised at how little this mornings run has affected me, I lurch to a halt on the drive and stop the watch....It's a good time, quickest this year on that course........Let Sunday begin....

Re: Bob's Bits.

I have a lttle Satnav, It sits there in my car
A Satnav is a driver's friend, it tells you where you are.

I have a little Satnav, I've had it all my life
It's better than the normal ones, my Satnav is my wife.

It gives me full instructions, especially how to drive
"It's sixty miles an hour", it says, "You're doing sixty five".

It tells me when to stop and start, and when to use the brake
And tells me that it's never ever, safe to overtake.

It tells me when a light is red, and when it goes to green
It seems to know instinctively, just when to intervene.
It lists the vehicles just in front, and all those to the rear
And taking this into account, it specifies my gear.

I'm sure no other driver, has so helpful a device
For when we leave and lock the car, it still gives its advice.
It fills me up with counselling, each journey's pretty fraught
So why don't I exchange it, and get a quieter sort?

Ah well, you see, it cleans the house, makes sure I'm properly fed
It washes all my shirts and things, and keeps me warm in bed!
Despite all these advantages, and my tendency to scoff,
I only wish that now and then, I could turn the bugger off.

Anon

Re: Bob's Bits.

Great Robert!

Re: Bob's Bits.

Hope you had a good run today Robert? Don't know what the weather's like where you are. We're at a lodge in Carr Bridge, by Aviemore. There is a walk we did last year and were hoping to do it again on Thursday. Towards Sluggan Bridge. Hope to get good pics. We're having a quiet day in the lodge today. My friend will be here soon. Hoping tomorrow to go up the funicular and watch the skiers. Aviemore is packed with skiers. Hope you are enjoying your day

Re: Bob's Bits.

Entry:-130415
After yesterday's Ten mile run, today was a rest day Myra.
The weather started off very sunny this morning, with just a hint of high cloud.
The breeze was a tad chilly, and as it was O/H's pension day, we had a very nice walk to the next village where a Halifax is located. We then made up a circular walk taking in some of my Tuesday and Thursday running course. It gave me a good opportunity to show you some of the more picturesque parts of the route.
There must still be snow at Aviemore Myra if the skiers are there? Enjoy your relaxing day, and look forward to seeing the pics. good weather has been forecast for us this week, so I hope it's the same for you.
The railway bridge doubles up for my hill work on a morning run, this is the Ten Nineteen to Doncaster...



After the railway bridge I leave the busy road for a while and take this secret little path down the side of a field, it leads to a quiet housing estate, at least it's quiet at 6:45 in the morning.



And finally, the bit that I look forward to, the last two miles is a country lane through tree lined avenues, and so quiet after the roar of the traffic on the road.

Re: Bob's Bits.

Part two of 'My Life in Bit's' it's as far as I'm up to....

My Life in Bits – Part 2 – The Recovery

The smouldering ember of life suddenly ignited, I could hear a telephone conversation taking place, and as it came into focus I realised that I was still here, and that Sue was speaking to the emergency services. The ambulance was here in no time and the paramedics got to work with injections, and a handful of stick on suckers, each complete with it’s own cable, I was connected up like broadband. We were soon on our way to hospital, with Sue beside me holding my hand. Apparently, all the information is transmitted to a team of cardiologists, who were monitoring my progress back at the hospital. Half way there we were ordered to stop as I took a turn for the worst, but I was soon stabilised and the journey continued. I was found a bed and made comfortable. Throughout the whole experience I was never in any serious pain, discomfort, maybe. I was still in my running kit when I arrived on the ward, and I needed to shower, that though, was out of the question. It was three days before I could eventually wash unaided, it felt so good to be clean and not have greasy hair. After various tests, it was found that I had indeed had a heart attack, but with low blood pressure and a cholesterol reading of 5.6, plus the fact that I only weighed 10 stone, it was put down to Fags and an unfortunate inheritance. My Dad had a couple of heart attacks and a stroke over the last few years. I always imagined that if smoking was going to get me, it would be in my lungs, but this was a silent killer, without symptoms, I had no idea what damage was being done until it almost killed me. I stayed in hospital for five days, and not knowing what had caused it, or how serious it was, I felt so vulnerable. Because blood pressure and heart rate were on the low side, it was decided that I should not be put on Beta Blockers, but I had returned home with half the contents of our local pharmacy. Ramipril, Statins, Aspirin and a GTN spray were the main ones. After a few days at home I was visited by the cardiac nurse, to make sure I was eating properly, and not doing anything strenuous. She tore a strip off my next door neighbour, when she found him cutting my lawn and wrongly identified him as me.

I was a self employed courier, but I wasn’t allowed to drive for six weeks, so no income, and although I could claim sickness benefit, I got it in a lump sum after returning to work. So, all my customers received invoices, and most paid up promptly.
I had booked a couple of days away in London for Sue’s birthday in June, it was just a week after being discharged from hospital, we went away anyway, I just took it more steady than usual and we had a great time. Over the next few weeks I filled my time with walking round the neighbourhood, and even some longer ones now and then.
After six weeks I would have to take the treadmill test to monitor the condition of my heart, to see if I had recovered. In beautiful weather I walked the four miles to the hospital. It caused quite a stir when I arrived in shorts and running shoes, after all I had just had a Heart Attack six weeks before. I was looking forward to running again, but in a controlled environment, where if anything went wrong, they would know and stop the test. The machine whirred into life, and I got into the rhythm of a steady walk, it gradually speeded up until I was jogging, “Any pain?” the doctor asked, “No, I feel good” I replied, “We will take your heart rate up to 155 BPM and hold it there for one Minute and then slow it down to a stop”. As the words left his lips the machine slowed and came to a halt. Blimey, I thought, that was a short minute. “Is everything okay?”I asked. “You will have to see the Doctor” he said, so I made my way to the waiting room. “Did you get any pain?” said the pretty young female Doctor as I made my way to the chair in front of her desk. “No” I replied, “In fact it’s the best I’ve felt for ages, and it was nice to be running again, albeit a short session” “Well this is going to be a problem for you, because your heart went into distress and they had to terminate the test. But the worrying thing is, you had no warning, so you don’t know when it’s happening” I had no idea, I felt nothing. “I’m going to send you for an angiogram, they will insert a catheter into your groin, which will follow an artery up into your heart, and we will be able to see what is going on.” She added. I left the hospital and walked home, at least we would find out what the problem was.

I carried my GTN spray religiously wherever I went, so, like Popeye with his spinach, I could blast some under my tongue and do superhuman feats. That’s the theory anyway. So one day I put it to the test, I reasoned that if my Dad had Angina, and had passed it onto me, then I would not be able to return to running. I had to know. I was walking along the canal bank, and then sprinted for the next mile, if I couldn’t do it without needing the spray, that was me finished. I arrived at the mile point on my knees, head swimming and legs like rubber, but I didn’t need the spray. Theory proved! I WILL return to running, one day...
And on Thursday 26th August 2004 just 12 weeks after Black Sunday, I completed my first proper 3 mile run. I continued to do 3 miles every other day until Sunday 12th September, when I upped the mileage to seven. I had come back from the dead.

My angiogram took place at Doncaster Royal Infirmary on Tuesday 12th October 2004 and it was confirmed that I had a blockage in a small branch of three arteries, one of which was all but closed, this had been the cause of my heart failure. All my other arteries were healthy and clear of obstruction, it was agreed that running had indeed been a major contributor to the good condition of the rest of my circulatory vessels.
It had been arranged that sometime in February 2005 I would visit The Northern General Hospital in Sheffield to have some stents placed into the affected arteries.
(Stents are small metal tubes placed into the arteries using a catheter, inserted into the groin, and a type of balloon, which, when inflated, allows the stents to be accurately placed.) It didn’t go that long though, because after returning home from a job one Friday night, I answered the phone to a nurse from the Northern General hospital, who suggested that I might attend the hospital at short notice for the procedure. I said “How short?” “Tomorrow?” she replied. So on Saturday 11th December 2004, Mr Oakley placed 3 stents into my plumbing, and I was discharged that evening.

In 2005 after careful research I managed to gradually wean myself off all the drugs I had been prescribed, and continued with my running, building up to long Sunday runs of 10 and 11 miles, by the end of the year I had managed to accumulate 745 miles.
2006 turned out to be a year of niggling injuries, nothing serious, but due to missed runs, I could only manage 600 miles this year.
2007 was better with a final total of 995. But my confidence had taken a bashing, and I was reluctant to return to road racing. But there would be a dramatic change for the better. After a successful interview with Royal Mail, on the 27th November 2007 I jogged down the road with my first bag of post. I became known as the running postman, always in shorts, and always running. My weight reduced from 11 stone down to 10, I was eating like a horse, while turning into a lean mean delivery machine.
The last road race I did before Black Sunday was the Ackworth Half Marathon, and was surprised to learn that Ackworth was the place I would deliver the post.
I wasted no time in signing up for the 2008 Ackworth Half Marathon, and on 16th March, while being observed by most of my customers, completed the course in 1 hour 46 minutes, which was six minutes faster than my run in 2004. Mr Oakley and the team at Sheffield Northern General Hospital had done a superb job, and returned me to the life I love. I went on to complete Newark and Bridlington Half Marathons later that year, although, being a postman, it was difficult while on races, to resist the temptation to run down peoples paths.
It was my sixtieth birthday on July 14th 2010, and as a result of some prudent financial organising earlier on in my career, among other things, I had the opportunity to retire, so I made 13th July my last ever day as a working man. I loved the outdoor life of a postie, and wished I had taken the job when I was younger, but you only remember the good days, although there were many, there were also wet, cold and stressed ones which are better forgot.

Since my retirement I have carried on religiously with running and racing, making my tally of Half Marathons sixty one, with a couple in the pipeline for this year (2013) although speed is drifting away, the enjoyment isn’t, and I hope to be running for a few years yet. God and Mr Oakley willing………
To be continued......

The Ashbourne Half Marathon 2012

Re: Bob's Bits.

Entry:-190415
Have been enjoying my usual early morning runs, with nothing spectacular happening.
I resisted the urge to go a little further this morning and stuck to a ten miler; wife worries if I start pushing out the distance. I took it very steady and enjoyed the experience, but felt I could have run round again. It's the London Marathon next week, but because my Marathon days are over I'll be satisfied to go early for my Sunday ten and watch it while consuming a bacon sandwich in an armchair; it's sort of traditional now.
Wife was spending the day with her Dad, doing his cleaning and stuff, so after my Thursday run I boarded a bus to Town and after lunch, visited the bus station. The Worksop bus looked exciting, so off I went pass in hand. It took about an hour to wind it's way round all the little villages on route, and it took me back to my courier days as I tried to pick out all the deliveries I had made along the route. Some were still fresh in my mind, but some were not. After a cup of tea and a large hunk of Chocolate Fudge Cake [I don't even like Chocolate Fudge Cake, but the Carrot Cake had all gone. I could only manage half, some of the portions these days are far too large] I left the cafe' and searched for the street where the bus had dropped me off, I found it just in time to see my bus disappearing round the corner at the end of the road. I did manage to catch the bus, half an hour later, and this one took a different route home, and to my delight it was a double decker. I scurried up the stairs and basked in the sunshine flooding through the window, while the driver once again visited villages and country parks as we wound our way home. I'm already thinking about my next excursion....Perhaps Retford...