Juneathon Day 1: Basically, RUN!

I'd forgotten about Juneathon till somebody mentioned it at parkrun this morning, then I hmm'ed and ha'ed a bit and thought oh, what the hell. I'll give it a go. I've done month-long streak-a-thons a couple of times before and it's been a positive experience. My running needs a hefty kick up the backside at the moment so maybe this will provide it.

Off the starting blocks with parkrun this morning. My parkruns have not been great recently. My PB is eighteen months old and I am nowhere near it. 27:36 today on a warmish day down at the beach - nearly three minutes away from my PB and a minute slower than my year's best time which I set last month. I'd really like to get the parkrun time down a bit. I've been doing intervals and everything. But I just don't seem to get any quicker.

This morning's parkrun was enlivened by a bunch of people in fancy dress (not runners) who were walking up the prom in a big group for reasons as yet unexplained.

Anyway today's scores on the doors: 5 miles exactly (parkrun plus warm up and cool down, not planned as 5 miles exactly but that's what it added up to!).

Such stuff as dreams are made on

I wasn’t there, at the Olympics, although I think one of the places I would most like to have been, ever, would be in that stadium on the Saturday evening when Mo won his second gold. Instead, I was watching the race in a caravan in the Lake District, where the gentle evening peace of the quiet caravan site was shattered by screams (mine) of COME ON MO COME ON LAD KEEP GOING KEEP GOING OH NO HE’S CATCHING UP COME ON COME ON YOU’RE NEARLY THERE YES HE’S GOING TO DO IT COME ON COME ON YEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!!

 Anyway. As I was saying. I didn’t see lots of the Olympics (missed nearly all the cycling, for instance), due to the unfortunate necessity to do holiday stuff rather than spend all my time in front of the telly, but I did see quite a lot of it and I found there were many things to love.

Some of the moments I will remember: -

The complete unapologetic bonkersness of the opening ceremony.

- The gloriously multicultural nature of the GB medal winners – summed up, perhaps, on one memorable Saturday evening when a long-jumping ginger bloke from Milton Keynes, a mixed-race golden girl from Sheffield and an awe-inspiring Somalia-born black guy called Mohamed all scooped gold. To coin a phrase: Nick Griffin, Aidan Burley, the Daily Mail - your boys took one hell of a beating.

- The reactions. Chad LeClos’s dad; Felix Sanchez crying uncontrollably on the podium; Gemma Gibbons’ heartbreaking “Love you Mum” moment; Mo crossing the line, arms wide, eyes popping; an exhausted Alistair Brownlee finishing the triathlon at a walk, Union flag draped around his shoulders; super smiley Nicola Adams saying winning the first ever women’s boxing gold has “made my day”; Andy Murray playing out of his skin, burying his demons, lifting his face to the sky in the sweetness of a long awaited victory; Bolt and Farah copying each other's trademark celebrations; the BBC commentators going mental for Mo (special mention: Denise Lewis); Louis Smith's graciousness in being pipped to a gold medal when he'd scored identical points to the winner......

- The firsts. Sarah Attar becoming one of the first two Saudi Arabian women to ever compete at the Games, finishing a distant last in her 800m heat while wearing approximately eight times as many clothes as the other athletes, but receiving a standing ovation from the crowd who warmly cheered her home. Women’s boxing being included for the first time. David Rudisha's amazing world record. The surprise win for Stephen Kiprotich in the men's marathon, the first Ugandan gold medal in 40 years. Bolt's double double, of course, but who could really have doubted it?

- Horse dancing

 - Some proper inspiring role models for our girls and boys. Dedicated hard working individuals who were, for the most part, humble in victory and gracious in defeat. Proper coverage, for once, of women's sport - the refreshing change of women being celebrated in the media for their speed and strength and skill, rather than just for being pretty and thin.

- Silly comments from my husband. Random selection: “What’s Usain Bolt’s real name?” “How long do women’s football matches last?” Daughter shouting "Come on Great Britain" at everybody regardless of nationality.

I've forgotten lots of moments, I'm sure. Others I never saw in the first place. Several made me cry. Sometimes I wondered if I was actually dreaming. But these are some of the things which will stick in my memory. What are yours?

There and back again: D33 race report (My first ultra!)

The D33, an out-and-back course from Duthie Park in Aberdeen to Banchory, along the Deeside Way, and back, was an obvious first ultra choice for me, what with it going more or less past my front door. And while 33 miles is still a terrifying distance, it isn't *as* terrifying as some of the longer ones... Knowing the terrain really well also felt like an advantage, though it might not be for everybody, but I guess I just like the reassurance of knowing what's ahead... It's a pretty flat route, a few undulations but nothing drastic at all, mostly on trail or quiet country roads.

I really wasn't worried about time, my aim was just to complete the distance, 7 miles further than I have ever run before. Preferably without dying at the end. I was hoping to enjoy it, but secretly I wondered how realistic that would be... I fully expected to be suffering a fair bit towards the end. I did have a notional target of 6:30:00, which I thought should be achievable, but I wasn't going to worry too much if I missed it. My plan was to mentally break the distance down into 8-and-a-bit mile sections (i.e. between checkpoints) and not think about the total distance any more than I could help!

As D(33)-Day approached the nerves were building, and by Saturday morning I was just about ready to explode. I was excited, looking forward to giving it a go and to seeing everyone who would be there, but also wondering what on earth I had taken on and whether I would be capable of seeing it through. The morning dawned blue and cloudless, which was not entirely good news as I was worried it would get too hot and I don't do well in the heat! Still, there was no point worrying about that. I ate some porridge, refrained from my usual cup of tea (just in case it might be implicated in the stomach/bladder problems I've had on previous long runs), filled my Camelbak, gathered together all the necessaries and headed off to the Duthie Park for the back of 8 (9am race start). There were loads of people there already and the atmosphere was brilliant. Said hello to all the people I knew (runners and volunteers and supporters), jumped around excitedly for a bit, went to the loo, and before I knew it we were lining up for the start... a race briefing from the RD, George (most of which I couldn't hear as I had made my way to my rightful place at the back), and we were off....

I had my strategy in place - run 25 minutes walk 5 minutes, eat every 45 minutes whether I felt like it or not (I knew this would be important, as in retrospect I have been woefully underfuelled in the past and suffered accordingly), and most of all DON'T RUN TOO FAST AT THE START. Of course it's hard not to as adrenaline takes over and you can be running faster than intended without realising it, but I was determined to keep my pace down and I did, quickly settling into a position near the back as the runners poured out of the park and onto the old railway line where most of the race would take place. I chatted to a few people, including a lady in a yellow top who was just doing half due to foot problems. She went on ahead when I slowed for the first of my planned walk breaks, and a bit further along I noticed a grey pouch lying in the middle of the path, which I was sure I had last seen attached to the lady in the yellow top. So I picked it up and carried it along with me for the next couple of miles until I finally gradually caught her up! Although it was getting a bit warm, I was feeling very comfortable (as one should be in the first few miles of an ultra!), sticking to my plan and keeping my running pace down to around 10:30. I look to be running fast in this picture at about 6 miles in, but I really wasn't!



It was lovely running along the familiar path in such beautiful weather. As it was such a nice day there were quite a few passers-by around, at least in the more populated areas, and quite a few smiled and clapped and said well done, while others looked understandably alarmed at all these dangerous lunatics who had invaded their quiet Saturday morning stroll!

The first 10 miles or so were very comfortable, and the Fetchpoint and quarter-way checkpoint were a huge encouragement, but by 13 I was feeling my legs slightly and it suddenly seemed like a long way to the halfway point! (I tried not to think about the fact that I had 20 miles in total left to run.) Not helped by running out of water! (the downside of the Camelbak - I had no idea how much I had left until suddenly there was no more.) However I got a huge boost when first a trickle and then a flood of runners started coming the other way, on their return leg. I loved seeing all the faster people coming past, and most had a smile and a friendly word. I really enjoyed this aspect of the race, although I was still very happy to see the beautiful halfway point (16.5 miles) and its lovely volunteers appearing mirage-like in front of me!

The halfway point gave me the welcome opportunity to replenish water supplies, eat a jam buttie, babble on deliriously and drop my Nuun tablets all over the ground (I may not have been entirely compos mentis at this point). Then it was back on the road for the homeward leg, always an important moment for me psychologically, knowing I have less distance to run than I have run already and every step is bringing me nearer to the finish. Nevertheless I think this was the toughest section of the race for me, retracing my steps along the route I had just traversed, and it seemed like a very long way to the next aid station at 25 miles. I was running very much on my own for most of this, with nobody in sight in front or behind me. However I had my Talk Ultra podcasts to keep me company and I really don't mind running on my own - I just go off into my own little world! I managed to keep going reasonably well, stuck more or less to my 25/5 run/walk strategy, and even passed a couple of people. I knew the longish "hill" (not much of one, more of a slight uphill gradient, but it felt like one) not long before the three-quarter point would be tough, and it was, but not as bad as I thought. I was also cheered up by the elderly couple walking the other way who encouraged me that "there's a fine wee tuck-shop when you get to the top!". "I know, I'm looking forward to it!" And I was indeed very glad to reach the fine wee tuck-shop a.k.a. the three-quarter point with its lovely helpful volunteers (you know who you are ;-)) who were taking time off from chatting up men and photographing everything in sight to help me refill my Camelbak and feed me biscuits and generally be helpful and supportive. After that it wasn't too far to the road crossing and Fetchpoint - also a very welcome sight, not least because it meant I was really onto my home stretch, the 6 miles I have run so many times before, and I could start thinking I was probably, definitely going to finish...

I was so relieved not to suffer the stomach problems which have plagued me on other long runs from about 20 miles onwards, as this was the main thing I was dreading happening. I think proper fuelling and hydration, as opposed to my usual hit-or-miss approach, definitely helped. I had a strategy planned of taking Shot Bloks/gels every 45 minutes whether I wanted them or not (and I never do) and I was determined to stick to it, and did. I also kept well hydrated thanks to the Camelbak, even if I did run out three miles before the halfway point! I think these factors really helped me to feel much happier and more comfortable than I would have done otherwise, as although I was certainly feeling tired towards the end, I didn't feel any tireder than I would normally feel on a much shorter long run, and managed to keep running most of the time.

With about 2 miles to go, two people on bikes appeared on the horizon and lo and behold, it was Maz and Erin, who I was very happy to see :-) Maz then gave me a bike escort to the finish, which was brilliant and really helped me to keep running for the last 2 miles, as if left to my own devices I probably would have walked a lot of it. I felt like I was running reasonably fast but whenever I looked at my Garmin it was around 11:45 pace! The perceived effort was definitely higher... Not least due to the effort of not colliding with all the people who were out on the path enjoying the sunshine...

As we got near the park we saw a group of 3 brightly dressed runners up ahead and Maz suggested I could possibly pass them :-) I said no way, then thought ah, what the hell, let's go for it, and managed to increase my speed enough to get by. Then we were in the park and I was weaving through the Saturday-afternoon families and children and suddenly I was sprinting (felt like it anyway - probably wasn't!) to the finish line and people were cheering, and my family and friends were there, and George in another epic t-shirt was giving me a hug and a medal and a goody bag, and there were hugs all round and it makes me smile and cry a little bit just thinking about it :-)



All in all I just totally LOVED this race. Yes I had to dig deep a few times, but overall it was not as hard as I thought it would be (as shanksi later, and correctly, pointed out, this clearly meant I wasn't working hard enough :P). But I enjoyed it loads. And hell, I've got to give myself an achievable target for next time - right?!

All the very important statistics:

Total time: 6:24:25
Fastest mile: 10:07
Slowest mile: 16:12 (included five minutes faffing about at aid station)
Total time spent faffing about at aid stations: 15 minutes (approx)
Food consumed:
Shot Bloks - 15 (in batches of 3)
Horrible tasting gels - 2
Jelly beans - several
Custard creams - 1
Jam sandwiches - 1
Hula Hoops - half a packet
Nuun-enhanced water - lots
Flat Coke - a bit
Al fresco toilet stops: 2 (not bad)
Small flying beasties launching themselves into my eyes/nose/mouth: lots
Small flying beasties actually swallowed: several
Excellent medals and goody bags: 1
Organisation: Fantastic
Volunteers: Awesome
Feelgood factor: Priceless!

Ultra training: the good, the bad, the ugly

The good:

I've managed all the scheduled long runs so far (longest to date: 24 miles. Still to come: 27 miles), and they haven't even been that painful, in fact I have largely enjoyed them. Well, to be fair, during both the 20 and the 24 my legs did start hurting towards the end, but the length of time before that happens seems to be getting longer, which I suppose is the point of training, really. The run 30/walk 5 strategy seems to be working well, my only reservation being that it can be hard to get going again after a 5-minute walk break, especially later on in the run when legs seem to stiffen up as soon as I stop running. I know I'm not going to run 33 miles without stopping, though, so walk breaks have to be had, and the consensus seems to be that taking them from the start is best.

My 24-mile run was lovely, for the most part. I ran along the North Deeside Road, out through Peterculter and onto the largely uncharted (by me) territory of the country roads near Drum Castle, until I got to 12 miles at which point I turned around to run back. Weather was lovely, and although I was running mainly on roads it was quiet and peaceful with hardly any traffic. Took it nice and easy, waving to the occasional cow, with my Garmin set to show time rather than distance or pace, but was surprised on later inspection to find a couple of sub-10 minute miles slotted in quite late in the run. It did all start going a bit pear-shaped from 20 onwards, of which more later, but an overall pace of 11 m/m was quite satisfying. If I can maintain that over 33 miles in the race, I'll be happy - but I know the last few miles (at least) are going to be a struggle.

Also to my surprise, I've suffered from hardly any post-run soreness so far. Legs were a bit achey the evening of the 20 (though not really in a bad way, more in that kind of pleasantly-tired way), but were fine the next day, and even after the 24 there was very little in the way of after-effects. So I must be doing something right.

The bad:

I've been running, which is the main thing, but I haven't really been doing anything else, though I know I should be. I planned on all sorts of cross-training and strength training and core work and all that but to be honest just finding time to fit in the runs is challenging enough. So I've done a *bit* of core stuff, but only a very tiny bit, like this video about twice (though I can't keep up the exercises for as long as you're meant to, mainly because they're murder) and I've also bought the 30 Day Shred DVD which everyone has been going on about, but I haven't actually got as far as taking it out of the wrapper, so big FAIL as far as that's concerned. I will do it, though, I will, I will...

The ugly:

was my very sore and achey stomach over the past few miles of my 24 mile run... I haven't figured out a reason for this yet, although it has been suggested that inadequate hydration may have been a factor... Basically I spent the last few miles feeling like I really needed the loo, but actually going to the loo didn't alleviate the feeling at all. Rather worryingly, the symptoms persisted for the rest of the day even when I wasn't running any more. I'm a bit concerned in case this happens in the race... however, I have one more long run planned, a 27 with Rhona , so I'll be able to see how that goes.

27 sounds alarming, being further than I've ever run before and venturing for the first time into ultra territory, but I figure if we've done 24 we can do 27. Will just have to take it slowly and not think too much about the distance!

Ultra Training 101

So I'm doing this little small ultra in March, a mere 33 miles, just a jog around the block really *cough* Actually, being very local, it kind of *is* a jog around the block and back for me, except that "the block" goes on for 16.5 miles...

Anyway I have put together a wee training programme, cobbled together from various others and drawing heavily on the 50k one in Bryon Powell’s book “Relentless Forward Progress” (a useful read even if the author can’t spell Brian ;) ). It basically involves 5 runs a week, building up to a longest single run of 26 miles *eek* and some back to back days.

Yesterday I ran 20 miles, which is the furthest I’ve run since the Edinburgh Marathon last May. Knowing a run/walk strategy will be needed during the race, I’ve decided to practise this in training as well and for my last two long runs, have adopted a run 30 mins/ walk 5 mins technique, which seems to work well. The 5 minute walk break is long enough to eat, drink, readjust my clothing, check my phone for messages, etc, and breaking a long run up into 30 minute segments feels psychologically very helpful. I set my watch to show elapsed time only rather than distance or pace, only checking distance occasionally, and with the walk breaks making every third mile slower, seemed to fall naturally into an overall average pace of 11 min/miles, with the run segments being about 10:30 pace and the walk segments about 15:00 pace, which seems OK.

The thought of adding on another 13 miles is scary though. Legs felt very tired by the end. And 30 minutes running did start to feel a lot longer than it had at the beginning! The only problem I’ve found with walk breaks is that it can feel difficult to get going again by the end of the 5 minutes as my legs can stiffen up a bit. This usually resolves very quickly, though, but I wonder if it would get worse on longer runs?

I really enjoyed this run, though, on the whole. I’d been a bit iffy about going out at all since I woke up with a sore throat and blocked up nose, and consulted the wisdom of Facebook where I was basically advised to HTFU and get on with it ;) Started with a few miles bug- and coin-collecting around the local area, then headed out up the North Deeside Road towards Peterculter. I’d been planning to divert onto the old railway line for the bulk of my run but decided not to do that and instead ran through Peterculter, out along the main road till I ran out of footpath, and then down some previously unexplored country roads for a few miles until it was time to turn back and retrace my steps, running the last few miles home from Peterculter along the railway line as initially planned.

So far so good, I think, but I'm getting scared about what I have taken on....

Race Report: Fraserburgh Half Marathon

First I was going to run this race and then I wasn't and then I was again and I'm really glad I eventually did because it is a really great race :-) Basically I went off half marathons a bit after failing to get a PB at Crathes (not the race's fault, it was lovely) but I didn't enjoy it much on the whole, and first I thought I would target Fraserburgh for a PB, then my training went a bit to pot, and I thought sod it, I won't bother. Then my friend Maz said why didn't I run with her and try to pace her to a sub-2:15 (her PB being 2:17:59), and that sounded like a good idea so that's what we did.

We headed off on the Fraserburgh road trip in the Maz-mobile complete with Scott aka Tall Loon aka Mo Bro who was doing his first half, and Annie who wasn't running it but was going along to support and do a 4 mile run around Fraserburgh while we were racing.

We made good time to Fraserburgh and went to register in the manky pavilion with the horrible non-working toilets (the only downside of the day really, and not much of one all things considered), and met up with various folk.

The race started in a field and then headed out along the road and doubled back on itself for the first wee bit, which was a bit odd but gave us a good chance to survey the rest of the field as they ran back! Maz, TL and I all set off together and were very near the back at this point. TL got a "go mo bro" shout-out :-) Then headed off along the main road for a dull but short slightly uphill drag, and after that we were into country roads, parks, trails etc which was lovely. It was quite flat, but with some up and down undulations but nothing long or major.



(I am actually in this picture, just hidden behind the extreme tallness of Scott!)

I was supposed to be pacing Maz but she didn't need that much pacing really, so my pacing mainly just amounted to the occasional "Are you sure you want to be running this fast Maz?" :-) and boringly regular updates on how far we'd gone and at what average pace. Between us however I think we paced it pretty much perfectly and had the satisfying experience of picking off runners one by one over the whole second half of the race, I don't think anyone overtook us the whole way except for one girl at a water station and we soon caught her up again :-) We didn't walk at all apart from a short bit at the top of a hill for Maz to catch her breath, and a short stop at a water station in mile 7 (when my Garmin went onto auto-pause which perhaps thankfully put the kibosh on my pace updates! Note to self: turn off auto-pause for races!). And we actually managed a negative split :-)

At 9 miles TL went ahead a bit and we shouted at him to go on, he protested a bit but was soon persuaded and zoomed off into the distance never to be seen again (well, not till the end). We last saw him as a tiny fluorescent speck way up ahead. He finished in 2:08 having made up loads of time in the last 4 miles.

The last few miles back into the town were great as we kept a good pace, continued overtaking folk (lots of whom seemed to be really struggling by this stage), as soon as we saw anyone in the distance we knew we would be passing them. Back down the hill we had gone up early in the race, across some roads and roundabouts, bit of confusion at this stage about exactly where to go but we made it back into the field, saw 2:13 on the clock and ran for the finish (nearly missing the funnel in my case but let's draw a veil over that). :-)






Maz had a little cry at the finish line, and who wouldn't after 13 miles of my company ;-)

Lots of PBs and lots of fantastic running from all concerned. Maz ran really well and was very strong and great company throughout, I have no doubt she would have managed a PB anyway but it was nice to be a part of it :-)

Mile splits:
# 10:25
# 10:03
# 10:11
# 10:02
# 10:24
# 10:07
# 10:25 (this was actually 11:25 due to stopping at the water station)
# 10:07
# 10:19
# 9:55
# 9:57
# 10:20
# 9:27

Final time was 2:14:06 although it wasn't chipped so probably should've been several seconds less!

Fraserburgh Running Club who organised the race really pushed the boat out and it was the most amazing value for money, for my £14 non-affiliated entry fee we got: a long-sleeved technical t-shirt (admittedly my "small" t-shirt was more the size of a small tent, but hey), a massive spread of unlimited gorgeous free food and drink after the race, a goody bag with medal, sports drink, banana, crisps and chocolate bar, loads of fantastic high-quality pics on the website and Facebook which were free to download, etc.... Hats off to Fraserburgh Running Club, you are brilliant!

I might EVEN go back next year to try for a PB :-O

Pictures courtesy of Fraserburgh Running Club.

Book Review: The Ghost Runner by Bill Jones

The mystery man threw off his disguise and started to run. Furious stewards gave chase. The crowd roared. A legend was born. Soon the world would know him as "the ghost runner".

Bill Jones first heard of the "ghost runner" in 1984, nine years after John Tarrant's death; researching a documentary about the Salford Harriers, an interviewee pushed a slender, battered paperback into his hand. The book, an Athletics Weekly publication, was John Tarrant's hastily written autobiography, also entitled The Ghost Runner. Unfortunately John's literary talent did not match his running talent and the book was not well written, but the story was absolutely compelling and Bill Jones quickly became haunted by this "ghost", determined to learn more about him, and ultimately to tell John's amazing story as it deserved to be told.

Subtitled "The Tragedy Of The Man They Couldn't Stop", it is a moving and inspiring story, yet the character who emerges from this book is not always easy to like - "self-centred, destructive and lacking in emotional intelligence", driven by anger and a burning sense of injustice. But John Tarrant had much to be angry about. Born in London in 1932, due to his mother's illness and later death and his father's conscription in 1940 he spent much of his childhood in a brutal children's home, his only companion and support his beloved younger brother, Victor. It wasn't until 1947 that the brothers, now 15 and 13, finally left the home, moving to Buxton in the Peak District with their father and newly-acquired stepmother.

There wasn't a great deal for young men to do in Buxton and when a new craze for boxing swept the town, John took it up with alacrity. Although he was never destined to be a particularly successful boxer, his years of surviving the harsh regime and defending himself and Victor against the bullies in the children's home had toughened him up and taught him to fight, and he participated in several matches over a couple of years, receiving a total of £17 for his trouble. This paltry sum was to prove his downfall. Discovering on the fells around his home an abiding love and talent for running, when John wanted to join a running club and enter races, dreaming of the success he was sure he was capable of, he was forbidden by the authorities to do so. Thanks to that seventeen pounds, honestly if naively declared, his amateur status had been compromised; he was banned for life, at home and abroad.

Confident that reason must eventually prevail, John embarked on a campaign of letter writing to the relevant authorities, only to be met by rejection after rejection. By this time married (in 1953) to the unswervingly supportive Edie, and working as a rather inefficient council plumber - the first in a succession of jobs which always took second place to running - John, aided and abetted by his brother Victor, embarked on a drastic course of action. If he wasn't allowed to run officially in races, he would run them unofficially, heading to the start line in disguise aiming to jump into the race at the last minute, where he would quickly speed to the front and stay there until he either won or collapsed of exhaustion. His intention: to show the powers that be just what he was capable of, and his genuine desire to run for the sake of it rather than for reward. Thus the ghost runner was born, quickly seizing the imagination of the nation.

Though officialdom refused to recognise his existence, John was welcomed and warmly supported by his fellow athletes, most of whom understood and sympathised with his predicament. (Former international athlete and main rival, Arthur Keily, even wrote repeatedly to the AAA pleading John's case, without success.)

The Ghost Runner is an incredibly good read, following John's running career from his first "ghost" outing at the Liverpool Marathon, to setting world records at 40 and 100 miles, and to South Africa where he ran the Comrades Marathon - a race which became an obsession for him - as a "ghost" and later defied apartheid as the only white man running alongside the black and Indian athletes who, like him, were barred from official races. In the process he earned himself the love and respect of many who were battling for equality in South Africa.

Although Bill Jones never, of course, met John Tarrant, in researching his life he received full and warm co-operation from John's family - his long-suffering, ever supportive widow Edie, son Roger, and indispensable brother Victor, all of whom deserve medals of their own - and found that many others, including John's running contemporaries, were only too happy to talk to him, and indeed believed the telling of John's story was long overdue. Hence, a clear picture of the man and his remarkable, if all too short, life emerges from this gripping book.

You would need a heart of stone not to be moved by this story (the last few pages had me in tears), which can also frequently make the blood boil. John may have been "the man they couldn't stop" but he was also engaged in a fight he could never win, constantly knocked back by the intransigent authorities, who refused to accept that £17 earned as a not particularly good teenage boxer did not render him a money-tainted "professional" for ever after. (Ironic, when money was the one thing John never had.) John wasn't the only person to fall foul of the elitist "cult of amateurism" which was unforgivingly enforced by the upper echelons, but he was probably the most determined to resist, and became a constant thorn in the side of the AAA.

The Ghost Runner is a great read, packed with fascinating incidents and characters, and extremely evocative of the post-war social and political period it describes. There are some extraordinary descriptions of races, including an attempt at the 50-mile world record which took place on a dilapidated Durban track periodically illuminated by flashes of lightning while rain lashed down flooding the track knee-deep in places, fighting broke out between rival gangs, and a local band continued playing regardless.

I would recommend anyone to read the book; it’s a terrific and thought-provoking story of a man whose life and achievements deserve to be more widely known.