The Ghost Runner

Is the title of a new book by Bill Jones about John Tarrant. Tarrant was a famous runner of the 50s-70s who fell foul of the authorities for owning up to earning £17 from boxing as a young man. Because of this 'crime' he was firstly banned from officially taking part in road races and later on banned from representing GB or even competing abroad. He dealt with these obstacles by jumping into races at the start and competing without a number - hence 'ghost runner'. He became best known for ultra races though he won many smaller ones up and down the country.
It's a 'warts and all' book which recognises that although there was great injustice done to Tarrant, he became very bitter and obsessed with his cause and his wife, family and friends didn't get an easy ride.
It is a good read though in that it paints a vivid picture of post-war Britain, dealing with social, working and sporting lives. It also details the effort Tarrant put into his running and the pain he endured, pain which ultimately he succumbed to after losing his stomach to cancer.
And... it made me want to go out and put my trainers on..

edit: spotted this on the RW Forum. I hope John Shepherd doesn't mind me reproducing it here. I thought I'd keep a copy in case it got lost.

Early in adolescence I read about 'the ghost runner' in the News Chronicle. He became my hero. As a runner I had two battles with him in 1967. In the South London 30 I overtook him to take 2nd place at about 14 miles. "Who is that man?" he asked my club mate, Bill Pluck, who was running with him. "Is he any good?" On hearing that I might win the race he took off after me like a hare and went storming past at an unsustainable pace. By 20 miles I had pulled him back to just 10 yards, the early leader having dropped away but on a hill John pulled away to win easily. I staggered in 7th.
In the London to Brighton a group of about 8 of us shared 2nd place for the first 15 miles. Some Swiss guy we'd never heard of had the early lead. As we passed Vic Tarrant, parked by the side of the road John barked at him "Who is this guy? Is he any good?" Two miles later when we passed Vic again he was sitting in the back of his mini flipping through a deep pile of athletics literature trying hard to satisfy John's request. Another couple of miles and Vic was able to say 'he's done 4 minutes twenty for the 1500 metres'. 'I don't care what he's done for 1500 metres. What's he done for the marathon?' Eventually John's usual impatience got the better of him and he set off after the Swiss guy taking a minute out of us in about a mile which he must have covered in just 5 minutes. Eventually John won and I was 20th. Within the borders of Brighton John got his familiar stomache problems and just stepped on to the grass verge and lowered his shorts. Afterwards he told me when he thought about what he had done he was shocked but at the time he was dazed like in a trance.
John could get into a trance like state in his races. In one race, I think it was the Woodford to Southend there was a roundabout towards the end at which one had to make a right turn. Exhausted and confused Joh made a 180 degree turn and started going back the way he had come. Despite the intervention of other runners, nothing could persuade John that he was going the wrong way and he just kept going back the way he had come.
He was a great character. I regret that I never told him that he had been one of my childhood heroes. John was a bit too honest and blunt for his own good. The sport is a lot poorer as a result of his early death. John Shepherd

The Tartinator

Met up with our old friend Colin "Tartinator" Tart the other day. He hasn't changed, even though he's not as well as he would like to be at the moment. We swapped lots of stories about the old days. The word "Legend" is often overused but for this man, it's entirely appropriate.

east devon way relay 2011

East Devon Way Relay - aka - 3 Thickos from Telford on tour.

there are lots of pics on my Picasa site


Dave and Mike had done the Grizzly; Dave and I had done the Exe to Axe as a duo, back in April. It seemed not unreasonable, we said to ourselves on our way home from Seaton , that we should go for the Triple Crown and have a go at this East Devon Way thing. After all, we could rope others in and make a great day out in the South West...couldn't we?
...several potential candidates refused to commit. Others just turned us down flatly. Others would cross the street rather than talk to us. People would point. Things were looking bleak as the months dragged by. Even Mike was a doubt. Could we do it as a duo? I was thinking that 20 + miles was a long way, presumably Dave much the same. Then Mike committed. We were on..

..Flash forward to July...

We'd made record time from Shropshire in the pouring rain, arrived early and because it was all quiet ("Ah, yes. The solo runners must have set off by now") we repaired to the Cafe by the marina for coffee, toast and a last-minute tactical talk. We returned to the wind-blown, rain-sodden car park to find that little had changed. Ok, so there were a few runners and a fluorescent vest. That'll be Chris then.
Dave ran over to say "Hi we're here" and the other two of us ran off in the direction of the loo, slightly concerned. On our return to the car, some chilling news.

"There are eight teams". "EIGHT?" "Yes, eight." "oh, B*llocks".

At this point Mike, down to run legs 9 and 10, supposedly tricky according to the blurb, declared he hadn't got to the Leg 9 instructions yet, he was more concerned about not making it past leg 6. There's confidence for you. We considered things we would rather be doing, such as re-indexing my paintbrush collection, sorting out that box of screws in the shed, etc etc. But there was no putting it off.
As start time approached, we looked to Chris for some inspiration and words of wisdom. He said that it was all waymarked - and with arrows - and that we should be fine. Now its not that we're inexperienced or anything; For goodness' sake we're 174 years old between the 3 of us, with many marathons, triathlons, big fell runs etc etc. We know our way around, we shouldnt be worried. But it was safe to say.. we were worried.

I looked round. Assessing the situation, I then came out with the prophetic, chilling statement

"there are 8 teams in this event. We will finish 8th. A distant 8th.."

But not to worry, we are hardy men from the Wrekin and Ercall. Though actually Dave is from somewhere else, and as you mention it, so is Mike.

Leg 1 & 2
I (slightly self-consciously) began our lonely odyessy. Into the teeth of a gale and with driving rain, it wasn't fun, but I thought I could keep up for at least a while. This 'while' lasted about a couple of miles as I twisted my ankle a bit, but thankfully (or regrettably, depending on your view) it wasnt a show stopper. The main group got away (this being the last we would ever see of them) and shortly after that, I got lost. I suspect these two incidents are connected.
Actually two of us got lost - me and Emma from the Bude Tri team, who was following me. We circled the village twice, each time saying hello to the man with the dog. We were at a total loss. He was laughing. We weren't. Luckily, I had the satellite map with me, and I knew there was a significant landmark on it. We went back to the man with the dog and past him to another man who kindly showed us how to get to A La Ronde. It was a tortuous up hill, down dale, over stile route though as we were well off course, but with the help of another couple of chaps we got going again. I was going ok by this time, but decided to hang back with Emma as we were kind of lost together (...though she did say she had recced the route beforehand... ). This seemed to work well, until she said she was changing over at leg 1b and their next runner sped off into the distance leaving me to labour on up the hill alone. Drat, I should have seen that one coming..
On to Leg 2 feeling less than great and it was, to be fair, a spectacular route through the quarry and up onto the moor. It reminded me of a cross between Cannock Chase and the North York Moors. Once again though I made a basic error, once again interpreting a blue arrow as "don't go this way" ..which left me doing a really tortuous climb twice. Ouch. Across the top of the moor and I was taking 10 minutes per sentence on the instructions, but there was only one path to follow. I was bushed by now though, and the final climb up at Hawkerland seemed to take an eternity. Where's the road? But I did it. Thanks, Chris for waiting..

Leg 3 & 4
Dave sprinted off; I thought "this won't last long" and sure enough, before long, Dave got lost. Where? blowed if I know. Or him, for that matter. He ended up knocking on the door of a B&B and asking for directions. He was asked by the proprietor "not to wake the sleeping baby". He must have been loud then, it must have been his sobbing. Anyhow, we had driven up to White Cross to wait for him. Up on the ridge, behind the rotten waymarker post hidden in the undergrowth (you didnt need to do that chaps, it was hard enough), it resembled a cold February day, and even the view couldn't compensate. We got there in time to see the Bude girls off, and then we waited..waited..waited...as Dave made the long climb. Mike kept warm by stretchng and pretending things would be ok now. Haha. We realised we were going to be so far behind everyone else we hatched a cunning plan, which was from 7 & 8 we were just going to run the legs when we arrived at the start, take our times and add it all up later. We had seen this system in action at the Welsh Castles Relay and well, it worked there so why not? That way, we would (a) do the whole route without cheating and (b) make sure Chris was home in good time. Good plan, perhaps the only logical thought of the day..Dave arrived, even worser for wear than expected after a later collision with a gate post. No, honest, he pointed the bruise out in the pub later. Off Mike went..

Leg 5&6
We dashed along to the end of leg 6/ start of leg 7 to see our Bude chums already there and waiting. It was by a farm entrance and near a busy road so care was necessary. Dave had a plan to go off just after the Bude ladies (".. to be fair to them.." ) then I would wait for Mike and we would then get over to Colyton for the "notorious leg 9". I began to get worried that Mike would not get in before Dave had finished leg 8, but he came in looking tired but ok. Well, sort of. It was a rare "we didn't get lost" leg but he did say he had been assaulted by a heifer and as a result had had an unfortunate encounter with an electric fence. Ouch. He also mentioned that there was a climb in there not unlike Mortimer Forest near Ludlow. Ooh, that's got to hurt..

Leg 7&8
Meanwhile, Dave was desperately trying to catch those Bude ladies. And, to be honest, failing. He got lost in the woods, amidst the mud and the deep tracks. It was his 'trench madness' period. He went round and round before finding the right way, and even then he wasn't convinced. In his words, it bacame a "War of attrition".
Mike and I managed to achieve that rare thing of getting lost on the CAR journey into Colyton, but some nifty map-reading meant we retrieved the situation without too much damage and we were there on time. After making sure he was fully recovered, I let Mike go out on Leg 9, making a careful note of the time again. I had offered to do 9 & 10 myself to let him rest up a bit. (Bet you wish you'd taken me up on that now, eh Mikey?) . Our 'official' stop watch had stopped, presumably traumatised by all of this drama, but more likely because I had sat on it in the car.
He's coming!! About 3/4 mile away across the field in the distance I saw a small red speck approach, in the style of the film "Lawrence of Arabia"... closer, closer until Dave got to the fence ..and bent double with hands on his knees. He refused to use the gate, claiming he could "climb the fence". One failed attempt later ...and yes, he was using the gate. We sped off to the start of leg 11 while Mike was "somewhere out there in the jungle".

Leg 9& 10
Oh yes...this proved to be every bit as bad as Mike had feared. He was lost, so lost he was actually drifting off the satellite map and on his way back to Exmouth, though he didn't know it. He went back on his route 3 times without success. He asked a farmer for directions, he then in desperation took a leaf out of Dave's book and knocked on a B&B door, alerting Killer the Dog in the process. Turning down the offer of a room for the night, he eventually made it to Musbury, but whether he was in one piece any more was open to debate..

Leg 11& 12
While this drama was unfolding, I decided to at least try and end the race in style. After logging my start time I set off at a reasonable rate and felt ok, making Uplyme village in good time and even considering a stop off at the pub (there was a music festival going on) But then it all began to unravel again. I missed a turn near the Old Mill and found myself going up a hill in the wrong direction, along a footpath (in the wrong direction) along another path (yes, in the wrong direction) where I tried to ask for directions but ended up in a protracted conversation about "was the Grizzly on today?" (those Grizzly numbers!!!!) before being turned 180 degrees and making it back to the mill - and on to Dragon's Hill, where I realised the Bude posse had once again gone past, their runner was right at the top of the hill. On tired legs this was a stiff climb, And no, sorry but I didn't stop to admire the view at the top...
Steep downhill, crossing a couple of fields and I was fine all the way into Lyme Regis and the run along the prom was lovely too - even if I did mistake a small child in the distance (wearing a fluorescent top) for the finish line. Suddenly, it was all over. We were in.
Dave and Mike appeared shortly afterwards to share the horror stories. We retired to some well-earned refreshments in the pub, and the local chippie before making the long journey back home. Great days. !!