I was a bit worried when I first caught sight of my number, as I thought the 'F' stood for female, and I had somehow been mistaken for a woman. How could this be? Perhaps one of the organisers had got hold of that photograph of me on a beach in Wales back in 1979 and jumped to the wrong conclusion.
I was on the verge on instructing Max Clifford to issue a statement:
"It was just an innocent bit of fun on the part of my client on a family holiday while he was still at school. We all did things when we were growing up that we perhaps regret later. In any event, nowadays it is much more acceptable for men to explore their feminine side, so it really isn't an issue. And don't forget that back in the late 1970s / early 80s there was still good money to be made in the daisy chain industry, and big hair was very popular with the England football team."
However, as I read through the instruction booklet, it soon became clear that the 'F' in fact denotes the starting 'pen' I have been allocated to and that Max had consequently lost a potential client. Unsurprisingly on the basis of my performance in the same race last year, pen F is the one at the back of the field! Oh well, at least it will reduce the number of people able to overtake me during the 13.1 miles.
Actually my training has been going pretty well. I am lighter and faster than at the same time last year with no sign of the pain between my left hip and knee that made the final part of the Bath half 2010 the slowest and most painful three miles I have ever experienced. I am still a long way off being able to challenge the 2:09 I recorded in Fleet in 2006, but it's early in the year and I have always seen Bath as more of an enjoyable weekend away and a part of my Project Five O build up than a realistic chance to record a PB.
Nevertheless my leg muscles have felt increasingly tight over the past couple of weeks, and that can only mean one thing. A visit to the physio for a sports massage. I've had a number of these over the past few years. They really are essential to prevent tight and knotty muscles developing into full blown injuries. My latest physio is Stan from the Czech Republic and he is excellent. I paid him a visit this afternoon.
For most people the word massage conjures up an image of dimmed lights, scented candles and whale music accompanying the firm but gentle application of perfumed oils by an attractive female made to seem even more alluring by her slightly austere attire. A sports massage is no such thing, especially when it is administered by Stan.
The initial massage of each part of the leg is very pleasant, consisting of a rigorous but light manipulation to warm up the tissues. What follows is far less enjoyable as very firm pressure is applied along the entire length of each muscle to stretch and squeeze out any twisted and knotty fibres. The pain slowly builds as the pressure moves along the muscle, reaching a sharp crescendo and then fading a little towards the end. I reckon there were over twenty such sequences this afternoon. I have found that the best way through the experience is to keep breathing regularly and deeply, in a similar way to when I'm in the dentist chair. I actually think a sports massage is more painful than dental treatment, but curiously I would much rather visit Stan than my dentist Dr Boraghi, very nice man though he is. I think that's because dental treatment just feels so very intrusive. By the way, if you've clicked on the link, Dr Boraghi is the Rafa Benitez lookalike, not the Dr Evil impersonator.
The pain was all worth it, though, for the extra looseness and flexibility that I could feel in my legs as I made my way home after the treatment. They feel renewed, ready for the even longer runs to come. I do have strict instructions from Stan that I need to stretch my hamstring much more extensively as it was far tighter than it should be, and apparently still is even after the massage.
Now I'm back home I'm going to pour myself a glass of wine and dig out the scented candles and whale music CD. It's time to relax.
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