Kindly remember that you are a second class citizen

I am the kind of person that will defend Dubai to the hilt to those who criticise it. This is the kind of thing I will say to people who say it is a revolting capitalist plastic hell hole full of Porsche-driving idiots with empty lives:

"The climate is great from October to April, you can enjoy a good quality of life, yes there is the fair share of complete materialistic plonkers that you would expect in a rich country, but I have made great friends here. And, as a woman in Dubai, I have always been treated with respect, it does not have the unreconstructed attitudes you might think, and, I know that as long as I remember I am in an Islamic country and do not do anything silly like be horribly drunk in a public place and otherwise live within the law, I will be fine."

Unfortunately, this week, I was given a rather stark reminder, courtesy of my landlord's agent, that despite the fact that I am as educated as my husband, have just landed a job that is nearly as well paid as his, pay my share of the mortgage on our property back home etc etc etc, in the eyes of some, the fact that I am a woman means my opinion matters less and that I should not argue and listen respectfully when a man is talking.

To cut a long story short, the agent had originally agreed to fix our broken washing machine, even gave us the cash up front without seeing a quote, but went back on this when the technician who came to fix it told us it was going to be twice as expensive as originally thought.

When I tried to disagree with his argument that he would not fix our six-year-old machine because "the apartment had been delivered to us in good condition" (it really wasn't, but that is another long and boring story) his words were something like:

"This is Arab country, here a man can do something very bad to his wife if she speaks against him."

At this point, I thought there was little point trying to argue with someone who is going to disagree with me because he believes that his being a man means he has an automatic right to make the decision, and the fact that the fact that I am a woman means I have no right to disagree with him. So, I have had to go against every single one of my feminist instincts and ask him indoors to deal with him from now on.

I moved here with my eyes open, I knew such attitudes exist here, but I found it pretty shocking because it was the first time in nearly three years that I have come up against it. In many ways, the UAE is very forward thinking. The Minister of State and leader of Dubai's recent successful Expo bid is a woman, for example, and there is broad recognition that equality for women is vital.

And, I know I should not let this man upset me, but, I did find it pretty shocking, particularly as it is the first time I have experienced this kind of attitude head on, and, I think I had started to believe that such ignorance did not exist here. Silly me, it would seem it does not take much for certain people to resort to it if a woman is behaving in a way they do not like.

It caused me to do something I have never done before, and went running to the forum on ex-patwoman.com where I found some good advice about reporting him to the landlord regulator RERA. As is often the case, I am not sure I can be bothered with the bureaucracy. Perhaps I will, but in the mean time, the priority is to just get the flippin' washing machine fixed. I am aware of the somewhat pointed symbolism of a broken household appliance being at the root of my pondering of perceptions of gender roles in the UAE. Perhaps I should get back into the kitchen and get on with trying to get the bloomin' thing fixed rather than rambling away on my blog.

Why everyone should see Champ of the Camp

For the first time this year, instead of talking about how nice it would be, we actually made it to a screening of a film at Dubai International Film Festival. Our chosen film was Champ of the Camp.

I have been reading about the film in the local press for some time, and had begun to doubt that it would ever be released, due to the fact that the treatment of the labourers who are basically responsible for making the enormous construction boom possible in Dubai, the UAE and the wider Gulf, is a fairly sore point as it has been the subject of such international criticism.

It is impressive that the director and producer managed to get it not only released, but screened at the the Emirate's film festival, and, at a 1,000 seat open air event right next to the Burj Khalifa, one of Dubai's best-known symbol of audacious wealth and determination to be the biggest and the best.

Please excuse the poor quality pic, I forgot to take my camera with me so it is from the Crackberry, but this gives a little sense of the atmosphere. Champ of the Camp tells the story of a singing contest that is held during the summer months at the labour camps where the construction workers live. The men audition to compete in a Bollywood singing game show, held in camps across the country, where singing ability and encyclopaedic memory of the thousands of songs written for the Indian film industry are key to being crowned Champ of the Camp. The winner in 2012 received a cash prize and an enormous flat screen TV. What is the true heart of the film, though, is the lives of the men and the solace the simple act of singing a romantic song from a Bollywood movie can bring to them, while they are thousands of miles from home, working long hours in searing heat for small salaries with often little prospect of seeing their loved ones for years at a stretch.

I can't remember ever before being so excited to see a film, or so pleased that it had actually been screened here. The screening itself reminded me of one of the central scenes in Cinema Paradiso, when the residents of the town gather in the square to watch the movie projected on to the wall because their beloved cinema is closed.

OK, it was a lot more official and high-tech than that, but the sound system was such that the singing of the men echoed from the speakers and the sound bounced off the Burj Khalifa, which one of the subjects of the film had been involved in building. The divisions between the lives of tourists and richer local and ex-pat residents in Dubai is such that he had never before been back to actually see the building as a visitor. A trip with the film makers was the first time he had ever got close up to simply stand back and look at it and watch the Dubai Fountain in the adjacent Burj Lake. It may have been a happy accident, but the point in the film when the fountain was shown was the exact point when the real life fountain behind it started to do its watery and flashing light stuff, another coup, even if it was not deliberate.

There are several scenes where the film makers simply train their cameras on individual workers standing in certain Dubai spots, beaches, building sites, near the Burj Al Arab, and they sing their hearts out. It is moving to see these songs, often ballads for lost or longed for loved ones, in such a different context, away from the glitz, the glamour and the frenetic dancing of Bollywood. I challenge anyone not to fill up at the sight of one contestant sobbing at the thought of being so far away from home and unable to be there in the event that something should happen to his aging parents. It is pretty sobering for a privileged ex-pat like me, who walks past hundreds of these workers on a daily basis, toiling away in 40+degrees, without really giving much thought to what their lives must be like.

There was only one slightly jarring moment in the film, that did not seem to quite fit, where two workers had a discussion about why one worker, from Pakistan, should happen to know songs from Bollywood, which felt as if it had been rather staged, and in my view, was completely unnecessary as there was plenty of other context to explain the use of Bollywood songs. Other than that, I cannot really begin to stress how impressive this film is, how fascinating an insight it is, the sheer quantity of work that must have gone on behind the scenes to navigate UAE bureaucracy to obtain permissions to film.

Much was made in media interviews with the director in the run up to the screening about how the media had previously only given a very small insight into the poor conditions inside the camps, the implication being that there is a much bigger pictures and it is not all bad. Well, his film showed conditions of eight men sleeping in bunks in one room, lack of air con in cooking facilities (no joke in the summer when it is 50degrees) and men disclosing that they receive a salary of Dhs1,000 per month (just over 166pounds). The fact that Mahmoud Kaabour was able to show this is pretty miraculous and I have already decided if I ever need to get something really very tricky done in Dubai, it is Mr Kaabour and producer Eva Sayre that I will be asking!

The winner of the contest, the film revealed, returned to his home country for a short while because his contract expired, and has since relocated to Saudi Arabia. Another, from Bangladesh, had actually been in the UAE illegally having overstayed his visa, but also managed to return home thanks to a visa amnesty last year. Another is back in Pakistan. Four of them attended the screening and each sang a song for the audience afterwards, their voices once again bouncing off the Burj Khalifa.

During a post screening interview, what really struck me was how one of them said that he never thought "people of such calibre" (ie rich and privileged people) would come to watch the film. Growing up in a society like the UK where one is taught that everyone is equal, no one is "better" than anyone else, whether or not their parents own land or have a lot of money or whether or not they have a brown or white skin, I always find such things upsetting to hear. Imagine, thinking the place where you were born or your parents' lack of money means you are not "of the same calibre" as others. I just can't, yet this is clearly how some of these men who are building the skyscrapers that are always springing up around us feel. Everyone should try to imagine what that feels like to appreciate what they have, and, that is why everyone should see Champ of the Camp. Now the real test will be to see whether the film will reach a wider audience and whether it will be the cause of any improvements in the lives of the men.

Belated happy "National Expo Day"

I am a little late to the party as the events in this post took place a week ago, but, what with all the jobhunting and foolishly running the Dubai Creek Striders Half Marathon, I have been somewhat preoccupied.

I am now recovered, much quicker than last time, and I can confirm that should you ever feel the urge to undertake such a thing in a desert climate, it is far easier to do so in 20-30degrees than 30-40degrees, so opt for a December half marathon rather than an October half marathon if you feel the need. Our next trick may well be the RAK Half in February.

Anyway. The business of this post is Dubai's winning bid of Expo 2020, which, has probably barely registered elsewhere in the world but has been pretty darned big news here.

The odds on the Emirate winning were so short that there was an inevitability about the proceedings of the day it was announced. Him indoors and I sat down to dinner, listening to a local radio station, and sure enough fireworks started to shoot out of the Burj Khalifa, which was also turned Expo blue for the occasion, the moment it was announced.

Say what you like about Dubai, when it comes to this sort of stuff, we know what we are doing. The fireworks started the instant the announcement was made and motorists in the streets around our building started going happily mental hooting their car horns. Meanwhile, him indoors and and I enjoyed the fireworks but slightly gloomily looked at each other and wondered what it would mean for the cost of living. There is already a school of thought that the Expo means the cost of living will simply rise too high to make it a sustainable economic choice for some ex-pats.

The cynical among you might point out that as I spotted workmen scaling the Burj to fix the fireworks in place days in advance, Dubai was something of a shoe-in and it's true, if you looked at betting websites in the run-up, you would have been daft to bet against it. But, it was actually also rather handy timing, as the announcement was just a few days before UAE National Day, another opportunity for the entire country to go completely pyrotechnic mental, so they could have simply delayed the blasts by 72 hours or so if necessary.

I was not in Dubai before the financial crisis of a few years ago, which resulted in ex-pats deserting the place for fear of being imprisoned for debt, but, I do wonder if the Expo win has brought something of the old swagger back to the Emirate. I spotted a rather boastful billboard on Sheikh Zayed Road, which ended up being featured in 7Days. So far there does not seem to be too much insanity or lunatic financial speculation off the back of the win, but I suppose only time will tell as to whether Expo means a return to what is referred to as "the good times" or "the crazy times", depending on your point of view.

National Day is a funny thing for a Brit as any sense of national pride and flag waving in the UK, apart from during the recent London Olympics, or during other brief moments in history when we demonstrate national sporting success, has rather unfortunate associations with right wing extremism, plus, there is the current debate over whether Scotland should go independent which means that our national identity is at best, "under maintenance" as we like to say in the UAE.

As a young country, the UAE at aged just 42 years, is in something of a honeymoon period and there are plenty of perfectly good reasons why. The standard of living is high for citizens and for many ex-pats, considerably better than they would experience in their home countries.

As is tradition, parades abounded, featuring floats from community groups and businesses and cars festooned with national flag decorations. The noise and festivity involved meant I simply could not ignore the one going on in Downtown and so I popped down to join the fun.

Perhaps because it was so hot on the heels of the Expo win, this year's celebrations did seem particularly festive. Dubai and the UAE have the tendency to get into the international news for the wrong reasons, but seeing the delight people have taken in being recognised with the successful bid, and, seeing a little of what it means for large sections of the population to be able to live here, gave me quite a lot to think about.

Typhoon Haiyan, which I believe has killed more than 6,000 people and counting in the Philippines, has been in the news a lot in the UAE thanks to the fact that there are around 750,000 Filipino nationals living here of a total population of 9.2million.

Although many Filipinos who live here are on low wages, you begin to see why they put up with that when the alternative could be living under threat of natural disasters. Us over-privileged Brits moan about Dubai and the usually quite trivial frustrations you can experience, but, and although I know this is a generalisation, for people from poorer countries, who grow up knowing they will need to move abroad to make a decent living, it is the place to be.

When I went into the Post Office prior to National Day, the Emirati national behind the counter was in an cheerful mood, and the interior of the building was festooned with flags. I wished him Happy National Day, and he replied: "And Expo" which made me think just how big of a deal this really is for the locals, particularly the older ones like that particular gentleman, who were in this country before it was even a country, and have seen it grow from sand to skyscrapers in the space of a few decades.

The visa requirements here are such that unless you are an Emirati national, if you don't have a job here or are married or related to someone who does, you cannot live here, so I suppose the result of that is that many who are here feel privileged to be so, particularly those for whom the alternatives are not at all attractive.

Life is by no means a bed of roses for everyone in Dubai, as links like this will show you, paying no tax means no free health service to speak of, so, if you get sick and your insurance does not cover you, you can run into problems pretty quickly. But it is times like National Day when you can see the genuine love and appreciation people have for the place.

Saying that, I would never ignore the flip side of those who have the experience of feeling privileged to be here, that is those who are here because they feel they have to be, driven here for the sake of  making a better life for the families, and, to an extent, are trapped because their salaries are so low that they can very rarely afford to fly home to see their loved ones. This section of UAE society is explored in Champ of the Camp, which premiered last night at Dubai International Film Festival.

I went to see the film at the open air screening of Burj Park, but it deserves its own post, so I will leave that for a different day. In the mean time, here is the Burj lit red, and then in UAE flag colours, to celebrate National Day.

Say cheese

It must be, ooh, at least a month since my last "product made with camel milk" post so here is my experience of UAE-made camel cheese.

The thing I like about this cheese is the effort that has gone into producing the packaging, a little Bedouin-style tent with imitation sand dunes. Bless. For 39Dhs, you get 200g of the cheese plus the fancy packaging. Readers in the UK will think I've gone mad if they've done the maths (that's about 6.50GBP) when I say it's fairly good value.....

Wait for it, wait for it....

There is logic.....

Camel milk is relatively low in fat compared to its bovine counterpart, and, I think it is for this reason that this cheese lasts a heck, and I mean a heck, of a long time. I am not going to tell you how long it survived in our fridge because you will be horrified that we still ate it, but, it is safe to say that him indoors and I do not really take much notice of sell-by-dates, we are more from the "if it does not have actual maggots or green fur, then it is still OK" school of thought, and, so far we are still alive.

You also do not need much per sitting. It is quite rich tasting, and its fancy packaging has some sort of psychological effect, you view it as a treat, therefore you eat a little bit at a time.

The other reason it seems relatively good value is that cheese of the non-processed variety is pretty darned pricey in the UAE in general. In the UK, we were used to buying house brick-sized blocks of mature cheddar on an almost weekly basis. You can get cheddar here, but the mature variety is not cheap and the house brick-sized blocks are not available in a bog standard supermarket, probably because it would be so expensive people would fall about laughing in the aisles. There is also a certain paranoia about food going off due to heat in the UAE, despite the fact that fridges etc have been widely available for a long time.

Obviously, most fresh cheese that is sold here has arrived from Europe or Australia in some kind of refrigerated vehicle which costs dosh, hence the high price to the consumer. There are all kinds of  processed tinned, carton and packaged cheeses available, but, I tried a cheap carton of feta from Denmark once and nearly cried, such was its inferior quality. I am aware exactly how ridiculously middle class that makes me sound, but, you know what, I am ok with that, if it means I will never have to eat the shrunken excuse for feta ever again.

Anyway, back to the camel cheese. As for the actual flavour, it is not particularly memorable. I would say it is a bit like feta but less salty, or one of those artisan goat cheeses that are coated in ash. But, it really is all down to the presentation. Packing it in a miniature tent appeals a lot to strange people like me who like miniature things, and I am pretty sure that thanks to this, it will join the assortment of "amusing presents to take home to the family" novelty items such as camel milk chocolate camels, dates, Arabian sweets and shisha pipes, given time.

As for a mass market, it is hampered by the same problems as camel milk itself, in that it is not exactly economical to produce if this story in The National is anything to go by. But there will always be a groundswell of support from those who want to find a way to make camels an economic resource other than for amusing tourists and camel racing in the UAE, as it is such a symbol of how life once was in this region. 

Gone and done it...

Sponsor us here: http://www.justgiving.com/ImoPaulMyelomaHalf

Distance covered on Friday: 21.097km (13.109miles) (effing far) in me: 2hrs38mins02sec (not VG) and him: 2hrs14mins53 secs (VG).

Current temperature:  31C

Today's orange pic:

Us with our excellent band of supporters, some of whom got up early enough to see us start the race and wave a cute baby at us, some of whom found the 9km spot and waved an orange banner at us encouragingly and jumped up and down, and others who provided excellent photography services, and more still who went to fetch cans of coke and cake after the race. Thanks, you all rule.

Having done the race, I would like to dispel a myth about running long distance races, particularly in heat. And it was hot, some of our supporters said they found it a bit hot standing there clapping us through the finish, let alone running 20-odd km.

Myth. "Wow, it will be hard work, but it will feel so amazing when you have completed it."

Myth bust: We did not feel amazing.

Him indoors puked and I had to lie down on the grass for half an hour to prevent myself from puking. I still did not feel amazing after that, I felt sore and nauseous. I certainly did not feel, as some claim to on completing their first half marathon, that they decide on the spot that they want to to do a full marathon. In truth, I might think about doing it one day, but not for a while. When we got home from the run, we looked at each and said: "Thank goodness we're not doing a full marathon, because we'd still be effin' well running now, probably with at least a half an hour still to go."

Two and a half days on, I am pleased that we did it, and quite determined to do a better time when we do the Dubai Creek Half in December, but my, it was a tough ole race. It was the first half marathon I've ever done, yes, but I had hoped to get round in a slightly quicker time, preferably in under two and a half hours, and I had dared to hope as the day approached that it might be closer to 2hrs 15. Sadly, it was not to be, I suspect I was slightly ill-prepared for the actual day as I felt nervous and a bit under the weather the day before and did not sleep well . And, I think I hit what is known as "the wall" at about km 18, which is shown by my split timings. I was at the half way mark by 1hr 6mins but it all went down hill from there. My fastest mile was my first - at an average speed of 6mph, whereas towards the end it got down to 3.7 when my legs were pretty much destroyed and I had to walk quite a bit. I think the key is that a comfortable distance for me now is about 15km, after that, it all starts to get a bit unnecessary. And despite everyone telling me not to start too fast, I obviously did just that. I honestly didn't feel like I was but I guess I was carried along by the enthusiasm of all the other runners.

I was placed 108 out of 122 women and him indoors was 267 out of 359 men. As you can see from those numbers, it is quite a small event, probably because there are not many nutcases willing to put in the necessary training through the summer.

Highlights for me were:

1. Our excellent supporters, whom I barely acknowledged coming towards the finish because I was so destroyed, and I pretty much grunted at for about half an hour after the race before getting up, insisting they be in a photograph then limping pathetically towards the car. Sorry about that, guys. I really did appreciate you being there, even if I nibbled just one bite out of the pastry you brought to me before lying down with my eyes closed again.

2. The point in the race where the podcast I was listening to finished, and I experienced a high as it coincided with the point at which I swallowed a Gu gel, and, Empire State of Mind came up on my half marathon playlist. At that point, I was screeching "New Yooooooooooooork, Concrete jungle where dreams are made, oh, there's nothing you can't do," and a Scottish bloke, who went on to beat me, the bugger, passed me at this point and said: "Like the singing, good going."

3. Being home, showered, eating toast and watching 30 Rock in bed.

I have just about regained my sense of humour about it now but there was a period of time yesterday when I was still feeling pretty grotty despite getting nowhere near the time I had hoped for, that it all felt a bit "what the hell was I thinking?". One of my chief running advisers will tell me off because I haven't been for my "recovery run", I've only been stretching my poor little legs in the pool, but I think it will be a few more days before I feel like putting on the trainers again. Still, with a total raised so far of 1451.73GBP raised, it has all been worth it.

Here is that link again just in case you've forgotten to sponsor us: http://www.justgiving.com/ImoPaulMyelomaHalf 

It's all in front of us now...

Sponsor us here! http://www.justgiving.com/ImoPaulMyelomaHalf

Distance covered this week: 9.66km

Distance to cover tomorrow 21.09km or 13 miles (oh pants).

Current temperature: 30C. Humph, not as cool as I would like...

Just a quick blog today to say thanks for everyone who has sponsored us. It means a huge amount to me, him indoors, and me Ma, who has demonstrated some serious guts in the way she's dealt with her Myeloma.

Your support really has kept us going through the training. I can't quite believe that race day is tomorrow. If you fancy waving us through the finish, I reckon him indoors will finish between 7.45am and 8am, cos he's quite good at this running lark, while I hope to be done by 8.30am, but would like to get in at 8.15am, at Emirates Golf Club. If that's all a bit early, come to the pub with us for burgers and beer! We haven't had a drink for a whole week. Never let it be said that we're not taking this running business seriously....

Non, Je ne regrette rien (not even le fondue)

Distance covered this week: 12.87km.

Distance covered on Friday 8.04km in a really quite feebly slow time.

Current Dubai temperature: A rather reasonable 30C.

This week's running training has been somewhat interesting as part of if was done in the Valee de Joux in Switzerland during a watch-related press trip. For those not in the know, the Valee is the rural home of many of Switzerland's best known watch companies including Jaeger-LeCoultre and Vacheron Constantin.

I ran past some of the HQs before the sun was up as various high-powered corporate watch types commuted past me having got up way earlier than I did to make the journey from the cities of Geneva and Lausanne to their countryside offices. You may be wondering why the companies choose to have their head offices way out in what some of the Swiss call "the Siberia of Switzerland". The answer is: Tradition, as that is where they have always been. The origins of many Swiss watchmakers are that their ancestors were forced to remain indoors for the bitter winters having brought their herds of cows safely down from the mountains. Many started making watches as a hobby or as a second income. It turned out that they were pretty good at it and from the late 18th century onwards, many of the world's finest watches were made in the valley.

I got home from the trip at about 1am on Friday, and dragged myself out of bed six and a half hours later to go for the final long run before the half marathon which is on Friday, 18th October. It was not actually that long  a run - a mere five miles which sounds like a little walk in the park compared with the 10 and 11 mile efforts of previous weeks. The distances required tail right off at this stage so you don't wear yourself out. But, starting out on the run at 8am was a mistake. It is really quite staggering how a two-night trip away can get you completely out of the heat resistance habit. It even snowed while I was in Switzerland, that means a minimum 30C temperature difference, look:

Another factor was stuffing myself with cheese fondue, Swiss chocolate, Swiss wine, and that delicious meat thing where you cook the steak on your own miniature grill at the restaurant table.

I sat there telling myself that meat protein was vital for muscle repair and calcium from the chocolate and cheese for strong bones, and, it would be rude to refuse the wine as I was a guest. But alas, dragging my bloated liquid cheese-filled self around two and a half laps of our usual Downtown circuit on Friday morning was not pleasant. There was walking, there was chocolate, cheese and wine-related regret, there was trying out the Gu running food for rehydration purposes. This was mint chocolate, but tasted like sweetened baby poo compared with the high quality grass-fed Swiss moo-cow produced milk choccie I had been happily hurling into my gaping maw in Switzerland. The upshot is I'm now asking, how the hell was am I going to get round 13 miles if I can't even manage five properly? Alack, alack. What have I done?

Still, as a certain francophone songstress once said, in actual fact: "Non, je ne regrette rien", because OK, maybe not so much the wine, but definitely the chocolate and the fondue were BLOODY DELICIOUS. I am not an athlete, I never have been; I was literally the last to be picked for every sports team in every single sporting activity that took place in my entire school history. I am not the kind of person to sit in front of someone who has carefully organised a press trip on which one gets the opportunity to sample local delicacies and say: "No thanks, salad please, and can you mix this protein shake up for me?" No. That person is not moi, because, as the french-speaking Swiss would would say, that person is "un peu d'une wankerre".

So, come Friday, I would like to get around in two hours 30mins, but, I am resolved to be OK about it if I don't, as long as I get round before the three hour cutoff point when they start closing down the course! Even if 34-year-old creaky-kneed over-sized illuminous orange vest sporting me only hobbles across the finish line at 2hrs59 mins 59 secs, she'll still be fairly unrecognisable in comparison with the Victoria plum t-shirt wearing five-year-old me who thought the best policy for catching a rounders ball was closing her eyes, sticking her hands out and muttering the Lord's prayer under her breath.

This has always been about raising dosh for charity and was never about killing myself or setting half marathon records, which is probably a good thing as anyone who has ever done one will tell you, 2hrs 30 is not exactly elite. Luckily for me, one of the many great things about my Mum, who this run is for, is that she used to tell me when I was in my particularly gawky uncoordinated school teenage years that she thought that making pre and post-pubescent girls run around in a state of half-undress on freezing cold playing fields in the name of physical education was tantamount to child abuse, so I seriously doubt she will be expecting sporting greatness from  me.... I'm pretty sure she meant that and wasn't just trying to make me feel better when news reached her that my attempt at the school inter-house cross country competition had resulted in me running past spectators telling them they "better get out of the way.... RIGHT NOW" because projectile vomiting was imminent. My sister reminded me just now, with tears of laughter pouring down her cheeks, that a further humiliating factor of this particular cross country run attempt was that I was running in a "reserve vest", so all the pain, the lungs burning from the freezing rain and icy air and being covered in mud and of course, coming last, were all for nothing as my time would only have been recorded if one of the better runners had had to drop out. And, having seen my feeble athletic attempts, there is no way any of the better runners could possibly have thought they were worse off than me, so none of them dropped out. So it was literally completely pointless. It's a small wonder I did almost no physical exercise from the ages of 16 through to 28.

Anyhoo.

We'll see you on the other side. In the mean-time, take it away, Edith: (Another good one for the play list, particularly this week). And for nearly the last time, if you have not yet sponsored us yet and wish to do so, please click here.

Sweat, sweat and sweat

Distance covered yesterday: 17.33km

Distance covered this week: 28.77km

Current temperature: 37.5C

Today's orange pic: Training plan with the days until the race marked off in orange.

There is no point moving to Dubai if you're not prepared to live with the fact that it's sweaty old place for up to six months of the year, but, used to that as we may be, yesterday's run was probably a bit beyond the joke. We had been slightly lulled by last week's run into a false sense of security that cool times are here again, as, the weather at the start was relatively pleasant at the start, if admittedly horribly hot by the end of it.  This week, as soon as we stepped outside we found the air thick with misty, sweaty humidity and sure enough, about two or three km in to yesterday's effort, it became clear that it was going to be a tough one. We were meant to do 12 miles but we managed about a mile and quarter short of that, as, we're both starting to get the odd achey joint problem and the humidity was so awful that we practically had trench foot by the end because of the quantity of sweat in our shoes. You have not experienced real running in the heat until you have listened to sweat sloshing around in your trainers, felt your socks go squelchy and seen small puddles of the stuff seep right through to the outside of your shoes when you stop.

The fun part about yesterday's run was that it was around the Dubai Creek area, which we crossed once, through the pedestrian tunnel that I did not even know existed, and then on the way back, we all jumped on to an abra for a nice ride back across it:

Obviously I didn't have my camera with me, but if you can imagine the same but with 20 sweaty runners on it, then you get the idea. If the abra man had done the usual: "One hour boat tour, boss, 100dhs, I would have said 'yes please, one thousand times yes' as being out on the creek with a bit of a breeze was absolute heaven compared to plodding along in soppingly horrible steam room that was Dubai yesterday morning. It was over too soon unfortunately and it was shuffling dejectedly through the souk and then home.

I think we're experiencing a form of hysteria now that all of the long training runs are out of the way as we are considering taking part in the Dubai Creek Half Marathon, which takes place just under nine weeks from now. Once we are over the trauma of yesterday's sweat fest, and providing it does not sell out before then, we may do it, just for the experience of doing it without the appallingly horrible weather conditions.

Thanks once more for all your generous sponsorship. Those of you who haven't sponsored us yet and would like to, click here.

Camel milk goes mainstream

Living in a largely ex-pat culture, your eating habits don't change much, even though you're living in a so-called foreign culture, so, I don't eat dates or sup camel milk, even though the aforementioned milk was one of the first things I wanted to try when I moved here.

Camel milk is fairly widely available in the UAE, although I get the feeling it's still viewed as a novelty, a cute local thing to try, even though it is something that is produced here with relative ease. There is a camel dairy, Camelicious, which revealed it had become licensed to export to Europe earlier this year and a camel milk chocolate company Al Nassma which has become the go-to gift of choice to take to the folks back home for ex-pats and tourists. I've tried it and have to say I couldn't taste any difference in flavour in it from cow's milk chocolate. And as any chocolate that tastes like chocolate is absolutely fine by me, I declare it a success.

You can try camel cheese, meat and milk drinks at various cafes and restaurants in Dubai. I won't list them because such theme restaurants tend to come and go and my information may well be out of date, but there is also a suggestion that produce from the UAE's camels could soon end up in the USA. So far, so promising, particularly when you consider the fact that it is widely trumpeted by its producers that it is lower in fat than its bovine counterpart and may be tolerated by those who are lactose intolerant when it comes to cow's milk. Although, it's worth bearing in mind that camels produce a fraction of the quantity of milk that cows produce each day so it's likely to be far less economical.

Another sign that it could be about to start truly taking off, though, is this:

It's a Costa strawberry-flavoured camel milk cooler. I've been meaning to try it since I spotted it on the menu boards at the Dubai Mall Costa over the summer, but, I'm a coffee person and when I want coffee, I want coffee, not a sugary milk sop like ice cream effort. But, you know, I made the sacrifice for you, my dear readers and last week I ordered one instead of my usual extra large, extra sour skimmed milk cappuccino. It's ok, no need to thank me.

I read in The National that this is part of an experiment to see if there is sufficient demand to introduce the concept in Costas nationwide, and in certain outlets, you can now order your coffee with camel instead of cow. I tried camel milk in both tea and instant coffee when I first came here. There is something about it that does something very strange to tea, but coffee is just about a strong enough flavour to mean that it's not over-powered by the slightly gamey taste. Strangely, I remember the coffee tasting creamier even though camel milk is lower in fat.

With the Camel Milk Cooler, it is fairly hard to tell what you are drinking because it is a drink that someone a good 25 years younger than me would find a little bit too sweet and cloying. I'm not sure whether it is meant to be ice cream or milk shake, something in between, but, as you can see, it is filled with great dollops of strawberry syrup, and I suspect the milk may have been sweetened too. I did not try the cow's milk version as I had a stomach full to the brim with camel-based sugary goodness by the time I had finished it, but I can report that it was not unpleasant. Was there a tiny little after-taste of something a little bit gamey or camelly? Perhaps, but frankly, I was buzzing so much from all the sugar, it was pretty hard to tell.

Anyway, as I said, no need to thank me: "Dubai Sand Witch, trying things so you don't have to," since 2011.

We've been tango'd

Temperature at start: a chilly 29C

Temperature at finish: 40ishC forgot to check immediately. Flippin' hot.

Distance covered yesterday: 18.37km in 2hrs 17mins

Distance covered this week: 32.93km

Today's orange pic: Us idioting around next to the Burj Khalifa last weekend, wearing our attractive screaming orange Myeloma UK running vests. You will notice there is a sunset vibe about the pic, because, it was too frickin' hot to go out and do this in the heat of the day. You also will notice the pics are taken from far, far, away, because we tried close-ups, and as well as hot, it was revoltingly humid, so, while I've tried to upload them but every time I do so, my mouse hand goes into spasms and just refuses to do it because we look ruddy awful.

We managed yesterday's 11mile run with the Dubai Creek Striders reasonably well. Well, I say, reasonably well, we were still completely b***oxed afterwards and had to lie in bed and watch three episodes of Breaking Bad in order to recover. But, joy of joys, oh frabjous day, calloo callay, the temperature felt not exactly cool at a balmy 29C but comfortablish when we got in the car at about 5.40am to go to meet our running chums at the car park near the Financial Centre Novotel.

The Dubai Creek Striders chiefs were also kind to us by picking a route that was particularly shady, taking in Zabeel, then along the main road for a bit before looping under Garhoud Bridge around Creek Park, through Karama and back to Financial Centre again. One of the things I have enjoyed about joining the Striders is that as many of them have been running in the Emirate for a long time, they know the best routes. Arriving in this sprawling car-clogged place for the first time, such is the prevalence of multi-lane highways, it can be pretty intimidating setting out anywhere on foot, but, in the past three weeks I have been shown all manner of underpasses, foot bridges, and pedestrian friendly cut-throughs that I had no idea existed.

I have been blithely telling you in this series of running blogs that I'm so incredibly fit now (roll on the floor laughing, why don't you?) that while I used to find that it was aches and pains in my legs that stopped me, it's now the heat that slows me down. Well, it was still pretty hot after 7.30am yesterday, and, it's true that I found the first 10km, perhaps not easy, but not horribly difficult, and managed not to have to walk until the 15km mark. Unfortunately, after that point, my legs, particularly the part just above my knees, were feeling really rather unnecessary. In fact, I would say they were hurting. A certain large sportswear conglomerate coach I know is always saying that it's not the effort that it takes to run the race you should be worried about, it's the recovery time afterwards, and that's what I am telling myself today. Because, although my legs and back are a bit stiff, I don't actually feel too bad, and am not totally horrified about the impending 12mile run, our final long training run, which is ahead of us on October 4th. As long as I download plenty of Radio 4 podcasts for my iPod, I am sure it will be fine.

Before you wet yourselves laughing at the rest of our bright orange vest pics below, I would like to say thanks again to those of you who have so generously sponsored us. It means a heck of a lot to me that so many of you have been kind enough to donate. I never even dreamt that we would reach the 1,000pound mark so long before the event itself. In light of that, and the fact that I have another small fundraising event planned, I have increased our target. So, if you haven't sponsored us yet, and wish to do so, please click here. If you haven't sponsored us yet, I would like to say: "Look, it's us, wearing fluorescent orange, and running, in temperatures of 30-40C! It's completely out of character! Sponsor us!"

Newborn skin, (thankfully) not quite literally

I was in the queue at my local supermarket recently, happily staring into space, minding my own business, while whoever was at the front kept charging backwards and forwards picking up items they had forgotten, keeping everyone else waiting, when my eye happened to fall on this:

I gagged a little at the thought of soap made from placenta, of any creature, let alone human. It reminded me of a chapter in one of the books of my hero, Adrian Mole (yes, I know he's fictional, don't start) in which he describes an incident when his American penfriend advises him to kill a frog and stick it in a blender, and smear the pureed gorey remains on his face in order to cure his spots.

I rushed home to enlist the services of Mr Google, and, mercifully, I discovered that this particular brand of soap, Renew Placenta, is not made from any part of an animal or human's afterbirth, rather, it is herbal. Placenta refers to the placenta of a plant.

It didn't half get me thinking about the lengths to which people will go in this part of the world, and, of course, many others, to keep their skin looking white. Meanwhile while their loony European, American and Australian counterparts, apart from the Goths of course, are doing their level best to burn their skin to a brown, crusty carcinogenified crisp at every available opportunity.

I went on a press trip to Taiwan when I first moved here, and I remember being staggered that the lady who was showing me round was five or six years older than me, when she looked about 10 years younger. Genetics has a lot to do with youthful appearance, of course, but, having professed such shock at this lady being in her late 30s, I had to do all the: "Goodness me, how do you stay looking so young?" stuff.

"It is the damp climate," she professed. Which I suppose could be a point, if you will excuse the slightly "bad science" connection between damp weather and skin being extra moisturised to help it stay looking young. Or, it could be the fact, that, when we were out and about, as soon as the sun even thought about peeking out from behind a cloud, she put up a parasol and cowered under it, lest any of its rays reach her skin. For her trouble, she did indeed have an incredibly youthful, extremely pale complexion.

The value of a pale skin to many women of different nationalities is clearly not something to be snidey about, and far be it from me to criticise women who choose to lighten their skin. Women clearly feel pressure to lighten up, and certainly don't feel embarrassed to do so, rather, tanned skin is seen as something to be embarrassed about, as is borne about by Renew Placenta's slogan, which is enough to make your average left wing westerner gasp: "Stay Young, Stay White."

A pale skin, after all, demonstrates prosperity, a concept loaded with the symbolism of a time when you showed your wealth in the fact that you did not need to labour or work outside. Instead, you were inside, protecting your delicate visage from the sun's aging effects. On our trip to India, we got used to seeing the product "Fair and Lovely" advertised everywhere, something, we agreed, that may as well be labelled "Rich and White" as that is the image users are hoping to project by using it.

It is bizarre, when you think about it, though, this opposing obsession that the two cultures have with light and dark: Us white people risking skin cancer and premature aging to go darker, perhaps for the same reasons our darker counterparts do the opposite, to project the image of health and also, wealth - of being someone who can afford numerous holidays in the sun. Meanwhile people with dark skin take the same risks, skin cancer and premature aging, plus the sinister sounding "skin thinning" and poor wound healing ability, to go lighter.

I read earlier this year that one Bollywood actress is taking a stand against skin lightening in films, branding it racist. It will be interesting to see whether others start to take up her cause and her message spreads.

Four weeks to go

Distance covered this week: 27.33km

Distance covered yesterday: 16.18km (10 miles) in 2hrs 07mins 20secs.

Temperature at finish: Forgot to check until a while after we got home but it was 44C.

Today's orange picture: It's a repeat of our running gear, to "celebrate" the fact that there is four weeks to go until the half marathon as of yesterday... (pause while I vomit a little with nerves). The plan is to post some pics of us in said running gear at some point and I had hoped it would be cool enough by now to go outside and pose for pictures during daylight hours without immediately pouring with sweat. I have now accepted that that's not going to happen so expect some sweaty pics coming your way soon.

We set out on our second run with the Dubai Creek Striders yesterday with a lot fewer nerves than last week and managed to complete the full course of just over 15km. We actually needed to complete 16.09km to fulfill our training plan, so, after finishing, we walked the remaining distance up and down a grass verge on the side of the road, which was handily shaded by date palms. I find it's psychologically important for me to complete the required distance, even if I have to walk some of it, because not doing so gives me extreme nerves that I won't actually make it around on the day.

Although I have a bit of a twingey left knee at the moment, which is perhaps not surprising how much further I am running these days, I find that the biggest hurdle that I have to clamber over when it comes to running is psychological. Before that it was the early starts, and now I've pretty much conquered that  Although, I wake up for each early morning training session thinking: "Oh, for f***'s sake, who's stupid idea was this? What the f*** was I thinking? Why on earth did I think I could do a half marathon?" I usually manage to drag myself up as soon as the alarm goes and into my running gear while stuffing half a banana down my throat. It becomes automatic.

But the twin obstacles of psychologically overcoming the heat and long distance are very, very tricky. I tend to find, that having run three 10km races, I feel fairly ok during the first 10km. But, once I go past 10km, my body starts to tell me it's time to stop, and it's a matter of will to keep going after that. Unfortunately, the point at which I get past 10km is usually long past 7am, meaning the sun is starting to climb higher in the sky and the temperature nudges up into the late 30s or early 40s.

On yesterday's run, that also coincided with the our arrival at Jumeirah Open Beach Running Track, the scene of a rather disastrous 8km run in August, which I talked about in this post, so quickly found myself in psychologically shark-infested waters and wanting to give up. The combination of heat, lack of breeze, and the sun getting higher in the sky, and the memories of a rather unpleasant run, made me start justifying stopping to myself. "I need to stop, this is dangerous. I'm dehydrated and the frozen bottle of water I started out with is now melted and rapidly heating up to bath water temperature and my knee hurts. I'm probably injuring myself and I'll probably faint," I found myself thinking. My head was telling me it was time to stop, when in actual fact, my body was more than capable of keeping going, as was proved by the fact that I did in fact manage to complete the distance, and, by the fact that I was not lying on the floor unconscious.

I suspect Striders members have their own monsters lurking on this path, though, as thankfully we only ran half of it before a water stop, and then we set off on the run home. What helps, in this situation, is arriving at the water stop and seeing lots of people who are clearly feeling the heat just as badly as you are, but who are determined to carry on. After that, I had to make a couple of stops to walk, because I do find it particularly hard to keep going when the sun is properly hot and beating down on me, and, I'm already tired having done 12-13km. I'm usually fine during the shady patches. I know it must be possible to keep going when the heat starts to get extreme, as runners in hot climates do it every day. But I haven't cracked it yet. The key to not giving up altogether yesterday was telling myself that on the day of the race, it won't be that much cooler, and there will more than likely be periods in the second half when there is no shade, so, if I have to walk, so be it, but I need to keep going in order to have prepared myself for the race.

On a brighter note, a long-term Striders member told me yesterday that while many people think July and August are the worst months, September is actually worse because of the humidity. It's certainly true that on my Monday night run, it was so bad that I came back not just dripping with sweat as I usually am, but with a running vest that looked like I was about to enter a wet t-shirt contest at a naff holiday camp. Not attractive. Once October comes, it should be better, hopefully...

If you're wondering what on earth could prompt us to undertake this lunacy, click here to find out more and sponsor us. We're rocketing towards our target, thanks to one particularly generous anonymous sponsor, but if you can find a few pennies or fils to spare, we would be hugely grateful.

Nine miles in memory of Roy Nasr

Start time: 6am.

Temperature at start time: 31C

Temperature at finish: 40C

Current temperature: 34C

Distance covered today: 14.86km, time: an eternity.

Distance covered this week: 27.82km

Today's orange pic is courtesy of an uber-runner and former colleague of him indoors, who found it on instagram and said it reminded her of me. I should add at this point that my old school chum, who supplied last week's fox pic, has started an orange4myeloma account on Instagram, where you can see all kinds of fun and unusual orange pics.

This week, we joined the Dubai Creek Striders, our local long-distance running club, for our long run. The reason I'm not sure about my time today is that I gave the running watch to him indoors. The "social group" section of the Striders, that we were running with, like to make several stops for water, something that was particularly welcome for me, as, although I started off near the front, by the 10th kilometre, I was at the back and struggling as the sun got higher in the sky. The social group run is the slowest group, running an average of 1km every six minutes. On a good day, I usually average 1km between roughly 6min 20 secs and 6min 45 secs, so I just about kept up. The fastest group takes just four and a half minutes to run a kilometre. Scary.

It was an emotional start to today's session as it was held in memory of Roy Nasr, a triathlete who lived in the Emirate for a long time and did a lot to promote the sport here. He was killed a week ago when a car hit his bike on the flyover that crosses Sheikh Zayed Road near Safa Park. I didn't know Mr Nasr, but, as you quickly discover when you move here, Dubai is but a village and I know people who knew him, and his death has clearly sent shock waves through the triathlon and sports community.

A minute's silence was held in his memory before we set out on the run and many runners turned up in fluorescent gear to raise awareness of the need for road safety when out running or cycling. Armbands and tags on which you can write your name, emergency contact and medical details were also handed out.

Understandably, the Striders' organisers were particularly keen to enforce the safety message today, and, they were strict about us running single file when we ran over the flyover where the accident occurred.

One of the many terrible things about Mr Nasr's death is that I have seen comments on stories written about his death declaring that "Dubai is too dangerous for cycling", or similar. As I have said, I did not know Mr Nasr, but, reading the many tributes to him, I am willing to bet that people feeling too unsafe to get on their bikes and go out on Dubai's roads would be the last thing he would want. Such attitudes could be disastrous for the future of the Emirate in my view. It is true that the climate in Dubai is far from ideal for cycling at certain times of year. And yes, the driving standards are pretty dreadful. You simply cannot trust people to see you and stop on time, so it's totally up to the pedestrian or cyclist to look out for their own safety. But, reliant as we currently are on fossil fuels to power our high-powered vehicles, we all know that that can't last forever, and, sooner or later, alternatives will have to be considered, such as hybrid vehicles and manpower. Plus, the health situation in the form of a growing obesity crisis is critical in the UAE, and the more people can be encouraged to exercise, in any form, the better. Discouraging them would be nothing short of criminal.

Today's Striders run was actually a little more than nine miles but, handily enough, the last water stop came in at exactly the distance we needed to complete to keep up with our training plan for the race. So, the two of us plus hardcore running chum and neighbour, who kicks both our arses at this running lark, caught a cab back to the start because we were all pretty much destroyed at that point. It was the furthest him indoors and I have ever run, and the furthest hardcore running chum has run since she came to Dubai, which I believe was at least five or six years ago.

I had to stop and walk for a few hundred metres twice, which considering the distance and the fact that it is still pretty hot, I am not too upset about. Apart from some pretty persistent blisters on my toes and rather achey legs and hips, and the need to crash out for a few hours when we had got home and breakfasted, there are so far no ill effects. Ask us how we are feeling tomorrow, however, and you might get a slightly different story...

Most of you know by now what this is all about, but if you don't, and want to sponsor us, please click here. Thanks again to those of you who have already sponsored us.

8-mile

Start time: 5.20am

Temperature at start: 33C

Temperature at finish: 34.5C

Current temperature: 38C

Distance and time: 12.89km (exactly eight miles) in 1hr 35min 22secs

Distance covered this week: 25.9km.

This week's orange pic is courtesy of my oldest chum, well, old, in the sense that we have known each other 25 years, she is actually younger than me by a whole month. It is an orange fox. Thanks for that, buddy.

The day's inspirational running song, well, it has to be the theme from the film 8-mile by Eminem:

I must confess I don't actually own this song or have it on my iPod because I find the music of Mr 'Nem a little bit shouty and nasty for my delicate ears, particularly before 6am. But, I may consider getting it because it has the old useful persistent beat to keep the legs going and, ahem, "encouraging" just get the heck on with it lyrics.

The run, starting near our abode in Downtown Dubai, actually took place yesterday but I had to do some actual work, (I know, on a Saturday, the cheek of it), hence writing this the following day.

The earlier start helped with the heat, but, we tried a new route and as him indoors is usually 500m ahead of me, and I have no sense of direction whatsoever, I did get slightly lost at the point where I had to come back across Financial Centre Road after doing a loop of the Emirates Towers. This will mean nothing to those of you not familiar with the vagaries of the Downtown Dubai one-way system, but I nearly ended up running up a flyover to the upper level of The Dubai Mall. Oops. This was in part due to the fact that Downtown continues be, in parts, a spaghetti junction of roads that mysteriously come to an end with no warning due to the fact that the place is half-built, and, in part due to the fact that around 6am on a Friday when three or four kilometres into a run isn't my most intelligent of times.

Anyway, I got round most of the rest of it fine, although, I did have to stop at the Boulevard Cafe at the Al Manzil Hotel, (if you haven't been there, go for breakfast and try the Eggs Benedict) and ask the man who was preparing the tables to fill my water bottle. Oh, and there were the times I was just walking along, thinking: "Where the hell am I?" and 300m where I was despairing a bit due to the sheer depressingly ugly un-built wasteland hell that is the back parts of Downtown. Apart from those instances, I succeeded in running most of the way.

I am slightly terrified that on the day I will have to run an additional 5.1 miles on top of yesterday's distance considering it was quite exhausting enough for me. But, now that I have managed to get through more than half the distance, I am starting to feel a bit reassured that I will actually be able to make it all the way round without a) crying, b) having to walk a lot of it or c) coming so far behind everyone else that the race organisers have gone home by the time I finish.

None of this will make any sense to you if you don't know that him indoors and I are doing a half marathon for Myeloma UK on October 18th, but you can read a bit more and sponsor us here.

"Is this Putney?" "That it be."

Distance covered last week: 21.17km.

Distance covered this week: 21.43km.

Distance covered yesterday: 11.31km in 1:20:59. Pretty rubbish but usual excuses will follow.

Current temperature: 34C

Today's orange pic: The highlighter pen with which I cross off days on our training plan.

Inspirational running music (don't judge me, running in 40C  + does stuff to your brain): Bon Jovi, Wanted Dead or Alive

We have reached the phase in our training when the distance we are running each week is greater than the distance of the race, which is 21.095km. So, if they could just let us run the race over a period of a week, I am sure we would do an absolutely grand job. But still, it's a milestone of sorts, with seven weeks to go as of yesterday.

This week's running has largely been defined by the fact that I have been in the UK which is absolutely great for running training in the short-term because, trust me, running six miles at 8am starting from Putney is paradise compared to running five miles at 7am in Dubai in August. However, the result of my six-day sojourn in the land of my forefathers means that running back here in the lovely old sandpit seems more torturous than ever.

Case in point, yesterday's run: Having vowed to sort out our laziness about getting up early to beat the heat, we carefully planned a seven-mile route around Downtown Dubai for yesterday morning but when it came to it, although the alarm was set for 5.30am, it went off, and my jetlagged body, which never particularly enjoys the effects of long-haul flying anyway, decided it was in fact UK time, ie, 2.30am, and therefore a profoundly unsuitable time to go running, so back to sleep we went. So t'was in the evening at our old haunt, Safa Park Running Track, that we set off with three and a quarter circuits of the 3.42km track in mind. This is what we did, but it was with horrid heartburn and the need to stop and walk some of it, for me at least, that we completed it.

Compare this to our blissful six mile gambol from my brother's flat in Putney, through parts of Roehampton to Richmond Park, which, for those not familiar with Blighty, benefits from scenes such as this:

There were no deer at the end of the park we were at, but, despite the lack of Bambi and friends, it was considerably more pleasant skipping over the rolling green scenery than toiling around admittedly flat concrete paths in the height of summer in the Vegas of the Middle East.

During the week, I also partook of shorter runs round the town of, not my birth, but my schooling, where my parentals live today, and encountered the delights of Southwell Trail, which was disappointingly free of the flasher who has apparently being hanging around there of recent according to the East Nottinghamshire gossip grapevine. A grave shame for a militant feminist such as myself, who would not at all be opposed to having an object of ridicule to amuse her on her merry way, and possibly, kick in the exposed nuts, but I can appreciate probably a relief for those who are of a more sensitive temperament.

I also ran around my old school, which has been flattened and rebuilt, for some mysterious reason, to resemble a giant, black prefabricated coal shed, presumably to exorcise the ghost of my terminally depressed teenage self who no doubt still walked the corridors picking fights with cool kids, bashing year-sevens with a range of musical instrument cases and perfecting the art of sarcasm to the extent that she herself was unsure what she was actually trying to say.

The getting on for 1,000-year-old Minster, where I spent many happy hours playing in school concerts and pointedly singing as loudly as possible and slightly sharp during school assemblies, is thankfully still there:

Although, they don't seem to have yet got the blue plaque commemorating the time I spent there, which is, frankly, just rude. Despite this disgraceful oversight by English Heritage, the trip home reminded me of why I am doing this half marathon lark because I spent some time with me Ma, who, currently feels like she has been run over by several combine harvesters.

I would hate to be the kind of person who distresses newly diagnosed Myeloma patients, who may come across this blog and think this is exactly what is in store for them, so, I should point out that Myeloma is a very individual disease, no two patients have the same experience of it. But, quite often I find that people have no idea what I'm talking about when I tell them about the disease and the charity for which I am raising money, so it is worth explaining a little bit of what it is like living with it.

My mum is currently undergoing her third cycle of treatment, having previously endured a stem cell transplant and a treatment with a drug called Velcade, which appeared to have been successful for a time, but as Myeloma is a disease that just keeps on coming back as it has no known cure, she is now taking a drug called Revlimid,  and, as well as experiencing horrible pain due to what doctors think is the encroachment of the disease in her spine, for which she may also need radiotherapy, she is trying to adjust to this new drug which has considerable side effects.

Those of you who have met my mum will know she is pretty tough, and, you will know if that there is anyone who can endure this, she can, but that doesn't stop me wishing she didn't have to, or anyone else for that matter.

We were asked recently why we are doing this half marathon in October, meaning we have to train through the summer in one of the hottest climates on earth, rather than wait until another event in December or February.

The short answer to that is this: We had wanted to do the race in March but it was postponed until October.

The long answer is this: I am big enough and ugly enough to know that a cancer that affects a relatively small number of people, compared with say, breast cancer, is not going to be number one priority when it comes to medical research, and that my paltry attempt at fundraising is not going to go particularly far in the scheme of things, but, other than on very dark days when the pain is just too horrible and the drugs are just too noxious, my Mum isn't showing signs of giving up yet, so, the least I can do for her is put up with bit of heat and getting up a bit earlier than usual to raise a few quid, which will hopefully go towards making life a bit less unpleasant for her and other Myeloma patients.

If you haven't already, and, have anything to spare, no matter how small, please sponsor us here.

This film is something I repeatedly post so please excuse it if you have seen it several times, but it explains the disease much better than I can.

Lastly, thanks and socially embarrassed hugs and back pats to all of you who have sponsored us so far. It really does keep us going when we feel like giving up.

Lessons learned

Distance covered today: 8.07km (Him indoors did 7km because he got confused due to heat) in 1hr, 1min and 35secs. Yes, that really is a pathetic time but I had to walk 1700m of it because of, er, adverse conditions. Read on to find out more.

Today's orange picture: orange straws donated for a recent party by our excellent upstairs neighbours.

Distance covered this week: 17km

Run start time: 6.50am

Current temperature 38degrees in the shade, but feels a lot worse due to vile humidity of up to 95 per cent in coastal areas.

Inspirational running tune of the day: You know I'm no good, by Amy Winehouse

This is not exactly a particularly cheery track but it has an insistent beat that helps keep the legs going, and, it reminds me of this track that always reminds me of me Ma, who, this is all about after all:

I think she will probably go ballistic when she sees I have recounted this story, but it made a big impression on me at the time, and, is in a very small way, part of the reason why I exist, so it is worth sharing temporarily even if she tells me to take the story down.

It relates to a time it must have been the early 90s, there was a cover of Baby, you're no good was in the charts and I think I must have been singing it and mum overheard me. At which point, mum recounted a story of her own teenage years when the song was in the charts the first time around, saying she had been singing it a lot then as it had a particularly catchy chorus: "You're no good, you're no good, you're no good, baby you're no good." Unfortunately, her boyfriend of the time took it somewhat personally and decided that, despite her protests, she was, as the modern-day parlance goes, "not that into him" and broke it off with her before she could do the same to him.

This comedic deadpan genius with which my mum said: "I didn't mean anything by it, I just thought it was a catchy song", is difficult to get across on the page, but trust me, it was pretty funny. Who knows, if she had stayed with this somewhat over-sensitive chap she might never have married my father, and my sister and brother and I would not exist, and then where would the world be?

Anyway, back to the running. This morning, we headed to the Jumeirah Open Beach running track which looks a little bit, well, a lot like this:

It's 1.5km long, so we ran the length of it four times, then tacked an extra 2km on top of that, well, I did, him indoors got confused because of the absolutely revolting heat and humidity. I am laughing as I write this, now, because, for some reason, we thought there would be a "pleasant breeze" because of the proximity to the sea. Oh, how wrong we were.

The "lessons learned" I'm referring to on the title of this post are as follows:

1. We REALLY have to get up early than 6.15am if we are going to avoid the worst of the heat on these longer runs.
2. Running with no shade whatsoever in the current weather conditions is a terrible, terrible idea.
3. Pleasant breeze by the sea? Ha and a thousand times, ha! In one direction, yes, in the other, crippling humidity and baking sun with no trees or buildings to shade under, more like.
4. It grieves me to say this, considering the line of work of him indoors, but I may have to desist from tipping my usual bucket of New Zealand Sauv Blanc down my neck of a Thursday night if our Friday morning runs are going to get any less painful.
5. While I have previously claimed that I can listen to any music when I run, in actual fact, in these conditions, the wrong kind of music can be the last psychological step you need to make you slow down to a stop.
Case in point today: This track got me going again today after having to slow to a walk thinking I was going to faint:

Job done, one of the all time brilliant inspiration running songs, along with the theme from Chariots of Fire. Perfect. Unfortunately, this came on next:

It's a great piece, which I love to play as much as I love to listen to it. Unfortunately, it is 10 minutes of slow, melancholy, soul-searching misery, and, it's safe to say that it's not conducive to keeping on running. So, along with properly early starts from now on (And I mean it this time. No, really I do) an upbeat running playlist for the iPod is another must.

So, we survived the run, just, and then, hooray, we were at the beach, so off we went for a swim and a muscle loosen in the tepid waters of the Arabian Sea. Unfortunately, a jellyfish had other ideas and stung me as I was performing a leg stretch in chest deep water. Off to the lifeguard we went. Thankfully, he didn't offer to wee on me, as I understand that the usefulness of urine on jellyfish stings is an urban myth perpetuated by Monica and Chandler in Friends, rather, he went to get a spray bottle of vinegar from the beach office and treated it that way. It ruddy well hurt at the time, but the vinegar seemed to do the trick, and in order to salvage a somewhat stressful outing, we went here for breakfast:

A, ahem, mature-looking biker did indeed turn up while we were there, but it's not just bikers that go there. Him indoors had a pepperoni omelette, which was really a mess of eggs, sausage and green pepper in a scalding hot iron pot, but it was tasty enough, and I had eggs benedict.

Today's run was not entirely a failure as I am choosing to treat it as a learning experience. And, when I turned to social media for solace, I discovered that Dubai Creek Striders who are really quite serious runners, had described today's conditions as Humidity 1, Dubai Striders 0, so I felt slightly less bad about having to give up and walk on a run that is a long way less than half of what we have to do on 18th October.

Most of you know why we have apparently lost our minds and decided to train for a half marathon in one of the hottest places on earth during the hottest part of the year, but in case you don't, click here. Any donations would be most gratefully received.