After a month of minimal training due to getting involved in my blasted football club I am suddenly in need of an intensive training spell with only 3 weeks to go. I have still been reffing but a variety of injuries calf, knee and back have meant that exercise has primarily been limited to games and recovery. Certainly getting my worth out of Norman my physio. I like to think I provide him with job variation because he never quite knows which part of my body he will be required to patch up as I hobble in for my weekly session.
lets get the footy out of the way first. Notts County (once a Trust /supporter owned club) are being hijacked by a meglomaniac and a village idiot backed by a bunch of jellyfish (spineless, gutless creatures who float on the tide). Anyway the clubs in a mess on and off the field so I got involved in once more trying to provide an alternative. Time will tell whether we will have any impact, personally I think the club will probably go man boobs up around September time.
Talking of which the afore mentioned MB's have maintained their prominent status and the obesity counter remains high. Consequently a decent walk was required. Wednesday night I am reading the forum of my second team Matlock Town and see that a group of loyal supporters are walking to Buxton on Friday to raise funds for the new stand appeal. Its late, I've had a couple of medicinal cans after a long day and a match and a leisurely stroll seems like a good way to get back into walking. "Love to have you along" says Stuart the organiser bearing in mind I have already sponsored him and another friend Kev. March.
Thursday dawns as does the realisation that said leisurely stroll is 23 miles long and starting at 6am Friday morning. Still in for a penny in for the rule "never post late at night on a forum" or suffer the consequences. Earlyish night Thursday but 5am Friday still feels like the middle of the night. Get ready, drive to the ground in plenty of time... nobody there. Drive to the petrol station for sustenance (jellybabies) and then back to the ground. Nobody there. Go and park car, walk back to the ground and thankfully at five to six our intrepid organiser has appeared. Eventually 10 other walkers arrive, photo's are taken and we are ready to commence. Malc March. walk leader and route finder is now fretting we are four minutes behind schedule leaving us with only 8 hours and fifty six minutes to get there.
A long and steady climb up Salter lane and onto Bonsall Moor is punctuated by the first of Kevin's many mutterings about how "If they don't play well after this I wont be happy" (Postscript Kev's opening comment on Monday night.... "I wasn't happy!!") . When it levelled off discussion focused on the lemming like tendancy of the local frog and toad population in their challenge with cars driving along the lane but we were fast approaching Winster before parts of a car bumper saw the updated score reach cars 56, frogs 1. Passing the Miners standard (unfortunately closed at 7.30am) Malc announced he was pleased with the 3mph progress but less pleased that it had just started to rain. A short while later I in my astute local weatherman guise stated that it was easing where upon it promptly got harder. Career role 34 now discarded.
The rain did eventually ease in time for us to meet the wonderful support team ladies where we joined the High Peak trail. Sharon was huddled under a brolly cursing the malfunctioning gas burner but still producing hugely welcome bacon butties. As a group we had stayed together pretty well and everyone seemed in good spirits although Lee had the days first blister evidence. Once plastered and fed we set off on the five mile stretch to Parsley Hay along the trail, a welcome change from road walking.
A steady pace was maintained although we had started to spread out a little. The weather had improved substantially and it was good walking weather in many ways. Kev " definately wont be happy..." March had changed into another of his seemingly unending supply of replica shirts. Normal people take waterproofs, kev just packs his wardrobe into the support vehicle. Alex (for the only time) spoke launching into a lengthy description of his six central mids games in a day experience, a stunning and bewildering feat as I lose the will to live after one game of crap football let alone six. It is clearly some dominant gene within the Lawton makeup that compells them to watch football anywhere at anytime. By the time we reached Parsley Hay quite a few of us were beginning to creak not least me with my miriad collection of aches and pains. I wont bother you with the details suffice to say if my body is a temple its a pretty ancient and delapidated one in need of substantial renovation.
Once more fed and watered we were on the prettiest stretch over to Earl Sterndale. One of the joys of the day was that you ended up walking with differing people many of whom I didn't really know and for much of this stretch I chatted to Richard who has an inherent interest in all things mechanical (lovely tone to that tractor engine, is that a crane down there... it is indeed, has that trailer chassis buckled?) but also was one of the Hednesford walkers so this effort was a mere morning stroll. I also chatted to Mark who cheerfully told me he hadnt seen us win all season, the only game he was in attendance that we won he served in the bar all afternoon (FC United). So for all those searching for answers to the subsequent performance I blame Mark.
Definately more spread out now we tottered into Sterndale in good time. Malc was well happy that we had reclaimed those crucial four minutes and I was satisfied that we were going to get to the game in time for the compulsary pre match beer. It is an unwritten rule (now a written one too) that football should not be watched sober and one I stringently try to adhere to. I also try and drink in club bars because morally I can then convince myself I am contributing to football economy. Actually its just a load of b***** that means I can have a pint and not have to walk any further to the game.
At the last stop outside the quiet woman (the pub sign had a headless lady on it say no more) Sharon regalled us with her with her toilet adventures from the Hednesford journey......... too much information. With only five miles to go most of us were feeling some pain particularly going down hill. It felt much later than 12.30 but then we had started walking in the middle of normal sleep time. Any chance of having a net weight loss had been removed by ham and cheese sandwiches so I accepted my fate and began hallucinating about cold lager.
The last stretch began with a steady climb and then a long descent to Harpur Hill. The descent was far more painful and we were well strung out. Impressively there appeared no possibility of anybody dropping out despite even the uba fit malc suffering blister problems. My feet were bearing up courtesy of my wonderful boots but other parts of the body were malfunctioning as usual. Having had the prettiest stretch we had the ugliest as befits approaching Buxton. Harpur Hill is a grim old place and the rugby club named Sunny meadows is stretching journalistic licence a bit far. On cue it began to rain and got heavier the closer we got to the ground.
By now it was a case of trundling along at your own speed (or whatever masqueraded as being comfortable). Jonny was walking with us at this time and we were so strung out that he got a plaintive phone call from Rosie saying he obviously didn't love her and had gone off with his new mates to enjoy himself. In a fine example of relationship management he mollified her with promises of fags and money for beer (not sure how this worked to be honest because Rosie was driving and I dont know if she smokes!!). Anyway Jonny held back and Richard, Alex and I pushed on. Richard felt he was wasting away so became obsessed with the need for chips while I was like a bloodhound sniffing out the prey or in this case the bar.
We arrived at 2.10pm to a nice round of applause from the committee although I think Tom Wright wanted to retract his praise once he realised I hadn't been sponsored. Typical commercial manager, Tom had done half the walk departing from Darley and going via Bakewell and had arrived ten minutes before us!! Mind you he had bullied friends and acquaintances into substantial sponsorship so congratualtions. Rapidly esconcing ourselves in the bar we were able to welcome the remaining arrivals from a position of comfort. Sat down, pint in hand, warm and dry (ish). Everyone made it in time which was a fine effort particularly for those less experienced walkers and also without such an affinity for the football club.
As for the game... we should have stayed in the bar or caught the first bus home. Kevin was "not happy", Stu became "A very angry walker" and even Alex was struggling to be persuaded to go to the Ilkeston game that evening.
I would just like to say thanks to Stu for organising the walk and the funds raised. It was a highly enjoyable day (until 3pm at least) and great training for me personally. Great people, great club, not a very good team.
