Month: June 2022

The Boat, Minworth, West Midlands

Pub #2498:

So, the scene is this: it was 10 till 4 as I arrived at the Boat (35.5 miles into the day) with my running buddy and his wife (who was supporting his run every 5 miles or so) already doing some therapeutic stretching. As I pass them toward the pub door they asked if I’m getting another pint. I didn’t answer because I had a psychedelic perma-grin working from downing some mushrooms at 10 till 3 (~32 miles in). The pains in my IT band and developing in my tibialis anterior ligament were shooting trails of colour throughout my line of sight, as well.

At the bar stood two absolute goobers. The bar has some sort of nectarine based cocktail on tap and they were sipping one each of these from sort of half-sized champagne glasses with a side of some cider or shandy and being loud and very much the amateur drinker that will discourage you from staying in youth oriented pubs. They made a production out of buying the bartender a drink but she just took the money for it and went on with her real work.

Already at a disadvantage due to the early peak on this trip, I hurried outside with my lager and tried to disappear into the wall. A bunch of teenage girls came out of the pub and started teenage-girling around so I opted to wait until I finished my beer and was down the path a bit before shooting the photo. The place looks like shit in the picture, but there was no way I was going back inside to get a photo out front then have to go back through again.

I loaded Highway 61 Revisited on my music app and soon everything was peachy. Not wussy cocktail on tap peachy, but with only 14 miles to the checkpoint I planned to quit at, I already felt like I was finished for the day.

The Dog and Doublet, Bodymoor Heath, West Midlands

Pub #2497:

At 31 miles on the day’s run, I stopped in the Dog and Doublet for a pint of Red Stripe. My running mate’s wife, seen tending him a few tables away, had already baffled the other punters describing our course for the day, pointing out that the drunk snapping photos with his phone was also involved. This encouraged them to start telling me stories about their marathoning experiences. I drank the pint a little faster and, glancing at my watch, made my escape. The only thing worse than talking about running is listening to someone do it (followed closely by reading or writing about it)).

The Gate Inn, Ammington, Staffordshire

Pub #2496:

The day’s run started before the Wetherspoons nearest the start was serving beer and none of the canalside pubs along the way was open as I passed until I spied the Gate Inn around 12:45 (25 miles into the run).

At this point in the day, I still felt fairly fresh and opted out of ordering any food since the support team from the run organisation would have hearty treats at the checkpoint. In retrospect, I should probably have grabbed a sandwich and some chips here as I only found fresh water, tea, coffee, some cookies and fruit at the tent.

Pub is big, canalside but opposite from and accessed down an alleyway from the towpath. Friendly if quiet on this visit.

Coventry to Catherine de Barnes via Tamworth and Birmingham

Saturday I set out on a 111 mile loop run along canal paths. It was an organised event in which I really only had hopes a making it to check point #3 at roughly 75 miles (and eventually had to throw in the towel at checkpoint #2 (a little shy of 50 miles). I’ll go back a few times later this year to complete the other sections.

I’m doing a significantly longer run later in the year and went into this one with no expectations other than to test drive my strategy and nutrition under real conditions…y’know, see what’s working and what isn’t.

I started a little faster than I would if planning to do the full distance and was still working out tightness ten miles into the day, running sideways or highstepping a minute or so at a time. I’ve got a bit more confidence carrying the 2 litre water bladder and can see some other, related ways to lighten the load in future. I should definitely schedule some heavy meals at pubs during the next really long run but it was good to rely on the support crew and my carb/protein/vitamin/mineral concoction this time. Other than those bits, everything seemed to work according to plan.

The first pub stop was at about 25 miles. The Gate was quiet but the beer was cold (Fosters). I got through checkpoint #1 about a mile away, changing shoes, socks, and shirt for dry ones and grabbing some fruit before continuing.

At 31 miles, a Red Stripe helped me pace myself during a stop at the Dog and Doublet but I could already feel the twinges of the left IT band that has plagued me over the last 20 years.

Realising I only had about 6 hours left in me before this became an injury requiring lengthy recovery, I downed the mushrooms I had promised the donor I would use during this race. By the time I reached the Boat, inside was too weird and it would be my last pub for the day.

The tripping part of the run was quite beautiful, of course, but it distracted me from the developing tendinitis in my anterior tibial tendon which has turned out to be fairly severe.

With 61.5 miles to go I made the right decision not to go. Probably off the left leg for a week or so.

Cook Street Gate, Coventry

We wanted a place near the Canal Street Basin for a couple of nights and found a reasonably priced room online. Turns out, it was in a 14th century city gate in the old wall of Coventry.

This is one of two such gates remaining in the city.

There is a modern kitchenette and a large bathroom in here, too.

While I was out on a run, Jackie spotted the formal gardens adjacent. A very middle-class-looking middle age man in business attire and two young women looking likewise suburban were enjoying the afternoon by packing a glass pipe then smoking. “What do you girls want to do today?” “I dunno, Dad, maybe we can go to Coventry and smoke some crack?” “Splendid idea, Philomena! I’ll warm up the Jag.”

Between my return, that night, and an hour later when the pizza I ordered arrived, some other junkies fired up on our front step. I cleared that off but overnight at least one more used our shooting gallery.

Graffiti etched into the stone, most of it from the 1980s and 90s when this was just derelict, abounds.

With two-foot thick stone walls, you never hear what the neighbours get up to.

Rail Run #54 to Bescot Stadium

The weather sucked, Saturday, but I needed some provisions from Decathlon Sports for next weekend and decided to finally continue the Rail Run Project after a 2 month hiatus since the last station. The last mile of the route was an overgrown footpath of rain drenched nettles and grass as high as my shoulders. Bescot Stadium Station could have waited but I’m glad to see the back of it.

The Old Chapel, Smethwick

Pub #2494:

Friday was warm. I could tell this in the lab kept at meat locker temperatures because all my colleagues who passed by were in various states of undress and the few that stopped by complained about the heat, indoors, because the temperatures had risen on the south side of the building to a blistering 22°C (72°F for those of us on old currency). It was to peak, outside, at 30°C (86°F) and I was beavering away to finish for the day by 4 o’clock so I could get out and enjoy the mild, spring temperatures while the streets were emptied of all but me, the spouse, and some Jamaicans.

I had to stop in Bearwood to pick up an item I ordered then continued on to The Old Chapel which I had spotted doing some GMap crawling. Despite the signage, there was no real ale but on a day like this it was grand to get a cold lager and join the sensible locals out in the gentle breeze by the large garden.

Later I set up a table in our garden and chilled some martini glasses to share the experience with the missus. As I write this the next morning, it is raining, 13°C (55°F), and gusty. Shit.

The Twelfth Man, Edgbaston

Pub #2493:

Formerly the Edgbaston Tap and listed as Temporarily Closed on Google, the Twelfth Man looks the same as the previous incarnation except for the signage.

It SMELLS of weed but I think that was wafting in from the car park where a couple of guys stood so that you couldn’t tell if they were residents of the apartment block next door or if they were just taking a break from the pub.

I got the feeling they don’t get a lot of shirts with collars walking up to the bar. I definitely felt like I was intruding.