Madness is getting up on a Sunday morning at 7am, having dieted and trained for 6 weeks previously, before putting yourself into a 12 foot wide track with 5,500 other similarly disturbed people and running for 21,097.5 meters, or 137?64 miles. It’s more commonly known as a half marathon, the little brother of the distance made famous by the whims of the British Royal Family in 1908.
Runners head off at the start of the Liverpool Half Marathon
Luckily having completed one marathon and a couple of halves previously, I was let off running another one this weekend (The Liverpool Half Marathon 2010) through a combination of my own incompetency and a bit of bad luck due to higher than expected demand (who are all these mentalists who applied so quickly they closed applications early?!) Still, I went along for the weekend to Liverpool for a friend’s birthday meal the night before (not much drinking achieved) and to watch my usual jogger in crime partner complete his first race of that length (which he did in terrific fashion).
After spending 1 hour 55 minutes on your feet (walking around Liverpool whilst your mates put their legs through a hellish feat of endurance) what do you do for refreshment? You hit the pub, fill up your empty belly and craving muscles, and top up your water levels with a few halves of cask ale (because you’re driving the mad runners home once they’ve suitably recovered from their valiant efforts).
Courage Directors was about as drinkable as bitter comes, and much smoother than the slightly sour Pedigree that followed. Both were poured with absolute precision by the highly experienced barman. One pull for a half, two for a pint, poured at a snail’s pace using all the pressure of the beer engine to pull the amber liquids forth to each glass. Each was superior to the pint of Black Sheep that materialised from thin air at the local Toby Carvery back in South Leeds later that evening. The first pint poured from the tap was entirely transparent much to the amazement of the chap on the bar and the embarrassment of the bar manager behind him “That’s my fault, that” he said cheerily, before scurrying off to do whatever it was he needed to do to whisk a surprisingly clear pint of ale from out of a hat.
It’s Cask Ale Week is this week, so get down the boozer and sample some British ales (we’re pretty unique in the world for cask ale, you know). Walk if you can or get a lift/public transport (I’d avoid running if I were you!) It’s better for the environment and you don’t have to worry about drinking a pint or two then. Preaching over. Enjoy!
It's Cask ale Week. It looks like this and it's good!
