the first real test of endurance

does anyone know what this statue/arch thing at the edge of Hyde Park is called? It's v cool.

refreshment break at the 5K mark

me outside yer houses o' parliament. Or "West-minister" as Ian Paisley likes to call it

Craig not looking overly-chippper









it's a real live pelican! honest! check out the feet on that baby.










this duck looked a bit sad that the pelican was getting all the attention so I took a picture of him as well. He posed liked a true pro

runnin london baby.

I got style.

training has begun....

yes, tattie-fans, I have taken my first tentative steps on the road to success.... walked a 10K round central London today in aid of Crusaid which was very pleasant. Got a tan. Several photos including one of an unexpected pelican which will be posted tomorrow. Followed it up with beating Craig in a sprint along Electric Avenue from the pub to Sainsburys. Eddy Grant would be proud.

Costume advice

Gav has been using his contacts to come up with suitable costumes for me to wear.

So far I have received the following in my inbox:

Thanks mate

Who will win?

Not me, that's for fuckin sure

The ruining of a perfectly good fag break

more words of encouragement

"The only running I've ever seen you do is over London
Bridge for the Bus,
Do you get to stop for fag breaks??"

Richard Mannering, a.k.a. "Rich Manner", London

Never....

....ask for "the good stuff" from Chicken Cottage on your way home from the pub. Have just eaten 2 fully formed bantam hens

Ardent fans...

....of the blog. On my way home when these two started pestering me for my autograph. Lovin my work apparently. Murphy and Linda, I now class you as friends.

Noo shoos!

Spangly.

Corporate sell out

After almost 29 years on this planet, I have finally succumbed to pressure and have purchased my first pair of Nikes. This was not through choice. You should all be aware by now of the '98 vintage Adidas' demise, which has resulted in me trying to buy a pair of cheap trainers after the rest of RunLondon's finest have trampled their way through the capital's sports stores. The RunLondon lot seem to fall into two categories:

1) smug folk who know what they're on about and walk around sniggering quietly to themselves and asking for flugelbinders and extra thick padded socks with ultramesh weave
2) sweaty embarrassed looking people pretending to know what they're on about picking up the odd shoe and giving it a prod with a finger, before noticing the price and putting it back on the shelf (i.e. me).

Very witty of Lillywhites to put the running department on the 5th floor by the way. It's 34 degrees fer chrissake!

Unsurprisingly, there were no bargain Asics or New Balances left in my size, so I milled about, thought about "over-pronating" a bit (calm down ladies - look it up) and eventually found a pair that both fitted and felt comfy (as well as apparently being good for wheezing Irish blokes trying to get both feet off the ground at the same time). All for the bargain price of 65 bucks.

So this 'whim' has so far personally set me back 90 quid! Please bear that in mind when digging deep to support the disadvantaged of Brixton :)

PS training tonight almost happened - was supposed to be seeing Kev who is coming out of hospital and conveniently lives on the oppposite side of the park to me, but he hasn't phoned to tell me if he's been let out. Self-obsessed, ankle-broken-in-3-places, morphine-addicted bastard.

Less Blogging, more Jogging.

there are three very good reasons why I am not out training tonight:

1) My trainers do not fit me - apparently my feet have grown since the age of 20. Poor bastards, might stick em on Ebay (the trainers, not the feet). Either way it's some poundage I could have done without spending.

2) I was meant to be getting my fitness fix from a game of football down the park this evening, but that has been cancelled because......

3) Kev, organiser-in-chief of said football, managed to jump off a pub roof last night in an attempt to impress a girl and has broken his ankle in three places (see Craig's blog for full details and video!). This, combined with Pino's "accident" on the way to work this morning which has left him with 6 stitches in his chin, and Murray's reminder that "these things happen in 3s", has led me to be too scared to venture out for my "power walk" round the park this evening. I am smoking a fag for Kev instead.

Gav has been in touch to pass on the pithy slogan "less blogging and more jogging", and I assure you I will be starting tomorrow as soon as I get appropriate footwear and a stopwatch. I might combine it with a jog/walk to Denmark Hill to visit Kev.

Promise.

Effin thing's following me everywhere....

False accusations

Craig has decided to accuse me of stealing all his ideas off him.

However, as I learnt at university, it is not plaigiarism as long as your references are complete. As I have fully admitted to stealing Craig's ideas every time I do it, I am absolved of responsibility or blame.

PS Craig - like the link to my blog from yours - where did you get that idea from?!

PPS - you would never catch me in a floral shirt. In fact, you'll never catch me full stop.

Didn't get to sleep til half one last night

Started thinking about the run and realised that 10k is the same distance as from my house in brixton to my old job in the east end. Almost vomited just thinking about it.

Last day of freedom

I feel like i'm embarking on a long, long journey. About to try using my mission as a chat up line. Predicted success rate? About the same for both i reckon.

Great News!

I found my gutties!!

They're not quite at the 'retro' stage yet (being a mere 8 years old), and I'll probably get laughed out of the park clutching a torn achilles tendon, but I'll try em out in the hope I don't have to fork out for a new pair.

I have also worked out how to send photos direct from my phone to the blog. Isn't technology marvellous?!

Expect accidental shots of ladies' bottoms to be posted at 2am most weekends.

Gav

another string to be added to his already string-laden bow, Gav has embraced all that is right and proper in his time across the pond by gazumping Murray by a measly penny. Or two cents I guess.

Altogether now..... USA! they're number one!

Come on proud people of Britain! Tony Blair may be Condaleeza Rice's bitch but that doesn't mean we can't reclaim the mantle of "largest donation" from the oil/pizza/middle-eastern-country-guzzling rednecks!

Gav is, quite simply, a legend. The only man to have a verb phrase named after him, he perfected the art of disappearing into the night when we all thought he was going to the toilet. Soon we learned to check if he had his jacket with him when he mumbled "jussgonnatoilet" at us around 11pm. Of course, I could write a very long and entertaining book about his various scrapes in the Greater Glasgow area, but that is for another time.

He's currently in New York, New York, where as far as I'm aware he is not living up to the tabloid hack's lot of drinking on his own in shady Irish bars and mixing with "interesting characters" (who smell of wee).

Instead, he chooses to spend his time jetting off to the Cayman Islands or Miami to cover the latest Britney Spears wedding, or crashing his SUV into a fire hydrant on Madison Avenue whilst trying to follow Angelina Jolie. Oh, unless he's not "working" in which case he's probably back at his Manhattan apartment in the arms of his lovely girlfriend.

It'd be enough to have me making short voodoo dolls with curly black hair if he wasn't just such a damn nice guy. Bastard.

PS Gav, if it's alright with you I might just not bother with the run and use the cash to finally make it over to see you. Actually, isn't the New York marathon in November?

The Smith

Just wanna give a shout out to my man Ally who has come up trumps with a twenty nicker bung.

Hailing from the mean streets of Cults in Aberdeen, I've known him since I was a naive young fresher back in 96. Former hockey starlet (he assures me he played with other boys) and founder member of the Dalrymple massive with a fine line in close-to-the-bone scathing comments (and general childish piss-taking), he is currently living the dream working for a bank in Bristol. But the great news is, he's moving to London! Yet another who mistakenly thinks the streets are paved with gold rather than dog shit in this fair metropolis.

It will be great to have him here though - one more non-English friend with which to hang out! Not sure if he'll be here in time to join team tattie on the sidelines though (if the pub last night was anything to go by I may have a very noisy and embarrassing troupe getting pissed by the side of the course. Still, it may detract attention from me should I feel the need to "do a Radcliffe" at any point).

Ally, the kids salute you my friend. Haste ye to Londinium. Just make sure you live South of the river.

Supportive Comments

A selection of responses to my initial email detailing my plans:

"would have got back to you sooner - but it's taken me three days to
stop laughing."
Gavin Wilson, New York

"what the hell is going on my boy - i didn´t think i´d be moving in with a
reformed health freak when i agreed to move in with you!"
Helen MacQuarrie, somewhere in the Pyrenees

"can't BELIEVE ur doin a 10K run!! The man who said he'd rather have pills to feel better, rather than excercise!Hell, I'd pledge me life savings 4 that - or maybe just a tenner!"
Nikki Greer, via text, Ballymena.

Thanks for the words of encouragement guys - it means a lot.

The right of reply

I received the following response from Dave. He raises some very valid points so I felt it appropriate to publish his email here:

"Have just read your blog-based tribute. While you do capture some of the basics of my remarkable existence, I feel that more time could have been spent emphasising the sheer magnitude of my jungle-puma libido, my physical athleticism, kindness to children, breakdancing wizardry and cookery skills.
Also, it's Karol. With a K, you f*cker. As opposed to the Vordeman / Smiley type. There's a difference you see. One spelling implies having a uterus, whereas the other is full of eastern european testosterone fueled macho mystique. Sort of.
Anyways, less fried chicken, more press ups beeatch. I want my money's worth.
-D"

I stand corrected.

I'm going to post photos on the site so you can follow my progress.....

......followed by a fitness video to be in the shops in time for Christmas

I've just dropped avocado all over my work

Preparations for starting to think about starting training continue apace, with two pints of Guinness at lunchtime giving me the necessary skewed outlook to think I might actually do this.

I'm a TIGER! RRRRRrraaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!

(oops, there's the boss, gotta go)

I Love my friends

What can I say..... It appears that either:

a) Murray has instigated a "biggest cock" competition amongst my friends
b) All of aforementioned friends are earning considerably more than me and think nothing of chucking £20+ in my (erm, I mean Fairbridge's) direction.

Imagine my surprise when I looked at my donations this morning to discover that I am now up to the princely sum of £75 in sponsorship! It's getting harder and harder to think of suitable ways to bottle it.....

So far, according to the comments left, I shall be running the race in a potato costume, pausing for a pint half way round, before bursting through to win the entire damn thing.... No pressure then.

More about the latest wonderful contributors soon (my best work comes when well oiled - I should be a tabloid hack), in the mean time for those of you who haven't contributed, here's that number again:

www.justgiving.com/tonyedgar

Chars

T.

Training. Day 2

Shunned the fried chicken on the way home from the pub last night, instead going for the much healthier Chicken Shish Kebab. Bit too much cabbage though.

I plan to try and find my trainers over the weekend - I think they're in my wardrobe somewhere. They are as good as new, having been bought when I joined the Stevie Building at Glasgow Uni in 1998, but only worn twice. Not really a need for them in order to sit in the cafe and watch the girls swimming.

After that, training proper starts on Monday (honest).

Muzz sets the bar

Never one to do things by halves, Murray has blown the race for "most generous sponsor" (i.e. 'most attractive to women/men*') wide open with a whopping 25 quid offering!

Again, myself and the other disadvantaged youth of the inner cities salute you for your Bill Gates-esque donation....

I know that your donation comes from the heart (well, at least from next to the right thigh - I hope that's where you keep your wallet). Every quid is more encouragement for me to undertake this foolhardy folly. Murray is 28, shockingly successful in the cut-throat world of marketing, looks not unlike a young Jamie Theakston (without the questionable social habits), knows loads of good restaurants, has a penchant for London Zoo and is looking for love. He may be marginally less hirsute than in his flush of youth when women were literally falling over themselves to claw at his mane of silky hair - the trauma of a late night amateur haircut having had its effect - but the Gordon fire still burns. What lady could resist such a selfless man? Of course, there is always the suspicion that he is contributing to charity merely to stave off the demons of capitalism and selling crap to people that don't need it, that invade his dreams every night.

Either way, he deserves his "props" as we say in my neck of the woods, and I and the millions of children nationwide thank you. He will be at the race as part of "team tattie" with a refreshing pint of beer at the halfway mark, if you fancy meeting him.

Peace out

Tattie.

(*delete as appropriate)

Dave Kenicer. The Man. The Legend.

Oh Surfy....

What a man. The first pledger. Five of your Scottish pounds for my noble cause. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.

Let me tell you about this man - the soundest mo fo ever to get stuck in academia. Looks like Euan MacGregor after that motorbike thing. Well, at least that's how I remember him. We called him Surfy Dave cos all the girls fancied him and thought he looked like a surfer (which ironically I think he now is), due to his long hair and impressive-for-a-21-year-old stubble. It mattered not that he hailed from Wormit, or that his middle name was Carol. Whatever "it" is, this man has it in abundance.

I still remember our cups of coffee in the Hub at Glasgow Uni (PS Dave, now living in London - you should try moving outside G12 the odd time), our pub quiz when we had a final the next day and won a sympathy bottle of beer from the MC, the beautiful flat that you OWN whilst you pursue a medical degree having already accrued a joint honours in psychology and Film & TV.....

Yes ladies, this man is a demi-God. The kind of man that men want to be and women want to be with.

And he has sponsored FIVE POUNDS. Take note.

day one. planning

Met Craig (training partner) in the Prince Albert for a couple of pints to discuss training strategy. Had four. Potentially going to join a gym. Had some fried chicken on the way home. Baby steps.

welcome

Being a narcissist of the highest order (hey, I'm moving to Clapham, Libertines fans), I figured everyone would like to follow / laugh at my attempts to get fit for the 10K.

A life of beer and fags has left me feeling a little unfit, and a recent trip to health-conscious Scandanavia (melanoma-baiting excepted), the 10th anniversary of my 'retirement' from schools rugby - in addition to my 61 year old mother's impending 10 day trek across Kenya - has led me to re-assess life's priorities.

With this in mind (plus the encouragement / idea to steal, off an equally unfit friend), I have decided to run the "run london" 10K in October (http://www.runlondon.com). Notwithstanding the event being sponsored by Nike, it is an ideal opportunity to get fit, raise some money for a great charity and maybe meet some lovely ladies along the way - red is my best colour. Oh, and show those trendy wanks from over the river that sarf lahndan rules of course.

So if you're interested, refer back here on a regular basis to get updates and see photos of my walking, jogging, puking, crying and generally looking like I don't know what I've got myself into.

I guarantee every sponsor gets their own special mention on the blog where your ego will be massaged and everyone gets to see what a great person you are (whilst secretly feeling guilty that they haven't yet contributed).

Don't do it for me, do it for the KIDS!

Tx