Shock news – Dope found in BWFAC
XC team
Inauspicious auguries abounded
on Saturday 3rd March as I prepared for the final XC fixture of the 2006/7 season at
Witton Park. An unaccountably dry mouth was the first sign followed by an
unexplained headache and excessive irritation when I pricked my finger while
affixing my number to my vest whose bright orange caused even greater oracular
damage than usual.
Then the mind started to go! (As
if you could tell.) First, I arrived at the pick up point 30 minutes early – an
unheard of occurrence for the perennially late Mr T. And as if that were not
trial enough for my generous chauffeur, as we rounded the Singleton lights a
lightbulb flashed: I had forgotten to
pack any shorts. Perhaps it would have been better not to have returned for
them.
Arriving at Witton Park, however,
all seemed to have turned out for the best. The sun shone, there was no wind,
last month’s mud had dried to a solid crust. All was well with the world and it
only remained to jog around ahead of Mr Gibson to secure my placing above him
in the Championship.
Alas, after just a few yards the
Twizell legs had turned to something vaguely akin to what I have always known
as “Marylebone jelly” a substance which older readers may recall “Prolonged
Active Life” 
for
our firmest friend. But not for me! The world seemed suddenly to be spinning
more quickly than I had experienced previously. Not even the sight of Bob
Massey “almost walking” as I overheard him put it later (or as it seemed to me
at the time, “almost running”) early on the second lap could spur me forward.
Indeed I was a bit bothered that even at his reduced pace he was leaving me
ever further behind.
Jono lapped me coming down the
hill on the second lap. I was briefly encouraged by his cheery greeting (and
pleasantly surprised that he found the breath for it as he bowled along in
around 5th place) but as more and more runners went by I began to
suspect all was not well. To put the tin lid on it, I couldn’t help noticing
the stentorian breathing of what I thought to be a nuisance caller but which
turned out to be the aforementioned Mr Gibson bearing down upon me and sure
enough he shortly passed by. Followed by a great many others too numerous to
name. I looked down at the Twizell matchsticks unable to work out exactly why
my stride had shortened to around the width of a paving stone. Thankfully our
coach, Tony A, was at hand. Encouraged not to do “anything silly” – as if
running 10k in midwinter was the most sensible of pastimes – I decided the time
had come to “pack it in”.
Pleading a game leg, I retired to
the changing rooms. At least I got a warm shower. Shortly after the lad who
finished 4th arrived and asked whether I had completed the course:
so I can’t have looked too dreadful. Somewhat shamefacedly I replied that yes I
had but I must have got back to change quite quickly as I was only 7th.
Ushered into the testing tent, I
provided a small sample. Now then girls, great oaks … and all that) Analysis
has been completed and it appears that a small quantity if blood has been found
to have contaminated the otherwise excellent and completely pure Chianti
circulating in my veins. All is explained. Verily there was a dope in the BW
and F team that day. I shall have to make sure that doesn’t happen again.
Until next year therefore, your XC
correspondent is signing off. Thanks to everyone for making it such fun.
Arrivederci,
David
PS Good News! This will be the
last report from me for some little while. I am about to carry out some
research into whether becoming more hopeful makes you happier. Seriously! It’s
going to take up a fair bit of my time so you will have to rely on the
excellent Wood reports for news of our club’s participation in local running
events. At least the Wood Report is reliable.