Click on the title above for a summary of a few of the events to look out for in March 2013

Running for Beginners

Every runner was once a beginner. We all of us wondered where to start; how far and fast to run; what sort of kit to buy; whether to join a club; and so on.

This section of the website is for anyone who is just starting out in running and is looking for some advice.

You are starting out in a sport which gives a great many people a lot of pleasure. For many of us, it is an important part of who we are. We wish you every success, and hope that you find running as rewarding and inspiring as we do.

You can either read these pages like a book, by reading one article after the next, or jump around to the articles that interest you, by following links on each page using the left hand menu.

If you'd like some help and advice in the company of others getting started, we suggest you sign up for our next Beginners' Jogging Course.

Further information:

• "The Joys of Jogging" by Emily Wilson, an article from the Guardian about what it is like to start running
• "Blood Sweat and Spirit" by Julie Welch, from the Independent, for an article about running the London Marathon

Running Shops in London

See also our advice on buying shoes and kit

Specialised running shops in London

For the reasons given in our section on buying shoes and kit, it is better to buy your shoes and other gear from specialised running shops whenever possible. These shops are much more expert than general shops, and will help you to select shoes which suit your running style. They will give you sensible advice about whether you need new shoes in the first place. They will let you road test the shoes, and will watch you to see if they are suitable for your biomechanics. If you go to a general sports store, a spotty teenager will sell you the model with the latest colour scheme and the highest profit margin. You have been warned.

Many of the best running shops in London give Serpentine members a discount. Have a look at the members' discounts page for full details of these as well as discounts on triathlon equipment, health and nutrition services, fitness holidays and discounts on even non running-related services such as printing.

Running Goals

There is a heated – but ultimately fruitless – debate about the difference between a jogger and a runner. One distinction that is sometimes proposed is that runners have goals against which they measure their performance.

For some people, the joy of running is setting, and achieving, their goals. This might be to take part in a particular race or event, to lose weight, to achieve a particular time, or to improve over time.

Some suggestions for setting goals

• Set a goal which is achievable but challenging. It should be specific, positive, and tied to a particular timeframe.
• Seek advice from more experienced runners about what you might realistically achieve. There are some well known relationships between, for example, half marathon times and marathon performances which can be used to estimate what you are likely to be able to do.
• Your goals should be over a timescale of months, rather than weeks or years.
• If your goal is a long way off – such as completing a marathon – set some intermediate targets for yourself - such as completing a half marathon. These intermediate targets should be measurable, time-phased, and aimed at producing the optimum performance to meet your ultimate goal.
• Visualise what it will be like to achieve your goal. Promise yourself a reward for when you achieve it.
• Tell your friends, colleagues, and clubmates about your goals. This will help to maintain your commitment. Pin a reminder on the fridge. Get together with a friend, and agree to do something together. You might both agree to run in a race, for example.
• Don't become obsessive, or put your goal above your family, friends, or your health. If you get injured before your marathon and cannot safely take part, then adjust your goals. You can always take part in another race.

Keep on Running

Many of us run to relieve the pressure of London life. It is important not to let running become just another stress. It is too easy to let running become a chore, something you worry about fitting in to a busy day, a pressure on your time.

Here are 10 tips on how to make sure running is part of the solution and not part of the problem.

1. Set yourself a demanding but achievable goal

Make sure it isn't too far in the future to be relevant to you. Visualise what it will be like to achieve it. Promise yourself a treat. More advice on setting goals

2. Don't try to stick religiously to a detailed daily programme

Use your programme to guide you on the amount of running you are aiming for, and the type of running you should be doing, but don't worry too much if you can't fit in a particular session on a particular day. Run according to how you feel: don't let it become a duty. See our running programme for beginners

3. Keep a running log

You can use your log to track your progress. You may be surprised at how effective this can be at maintaining your interest, as well as providing useful information about what works for you. More on running logs

4. Take off a day every week, have an easy week every month, and take a month off every year

Your body cannot go on working hard every day of the year. Have a day off every week – if you want to exercise, cycle or swim instead. Each month, have an easy week where you don't push yourself so hard. And take a month off running each year. You'll find you return to running refreshed and enthusiastic.

5. Vary your routes

Don't just run the same old routes every day. Go out and explore your neighbourhood, or take a train out to the countryside. Try to find a trail in a forest, or along a river, or a path in a park, so that you are not running on road the whole time. (You should in any case vary your route for your own security, and to avoid injury, as well as avoiding boredom). See our suggested running routes in London

6. If you feel you are getting stale, run for a week without wearing a watch

Run how you feel, not according to the time it is taking you.

7. Join a running club

You will meet other people, find new running partners, hear about interesting events and learn from people who have been running for years. A running club is a good way to find out about events that you might not have tried, like cross country, track and field, or triathlons. More on joining a running club

8. Enter races

You don't have to be a great athlete to run races – people of all ages and abilities enter them, and they are a fun day out. You can use them as a training run, or to test your progress. They are also a great way to go for a longer run, because the route will be marked out for you, free of traffic, and there will be water tables on the way round. More on entering races. See the Serpentine Planner for information about forthcoming races

9. Run in the mornings

Although you may not be at your best in the morning, you can at least be fairly sure that nothing will intervene to prevent you going out. If you run in the evenings, you may find you have to work late, or an unexpected social engagement gets in the way. Use your morning runs to clear your head and plan your day. There is something quite special about watching London wake up as the sun rises.

10. If you do not enjoy running, do something else instead

Running is unquestionably good for you: it will help you lose weight, get fit, manage stress and (according to some studies) will improve your sex life. But if you do not enjoy it, you are not going to keep it up. You might better off finding something you do enjoy, such as swimming, cycling, aerobics or football.

How to Start Running

New runners often try to run too far or too fast at first. This is particularly true if you join a running club and feel you should be keeping pace with more experienced runners. The key to running is to push yourself, but not so hard that you become injured or ill.

Five tips to help you start running safely

1. Walk for the first three weeks

If you are new to running – even if you are physically fit – you should walk for the first three weeks. Although this may sound boring, there is statistically a very good chance of becoming injured in your third month of running if you do not begin with a period of walking. It takes time for your joints, muscles, tendons, ligaments and bones to get used to the impact and mechanics of running. Your overall fitness tends to increase before your body has fully adapted, and that is when you get injured. Use the first three weeks of walking to get into the habit of exercise, and adjust your daily routine, and let your body get a head start on adapting to running. If you have jogged a little, but never run far, it is still advisable to begin a programme of mainly walking before you start running. Consider visiting a physiotherapist or podiatrist.

2. Remember the talk test

When you are training, you should be able to maintain a conversation, talking in complete sentences. If you are too out of breath to do this, you are training too fast.

3. Rest

Your fitness and strength do not improve while you are running. They improve while you are resting, as your body responds to the stresses it has experienced. Rest is just as important a part of your training programme as running. When you start running, you should not run more than every other day. As you get more experienced, you should take a day off each week.

4. Do not increase your distance more than 3 miles a week

You should not increase your weekly mileage more than 3 miles in any one week. This will ensure that you build up slowly. Jumps in mileage are asking for injury.

5. Keep at it for at least 4 weeks

For many runners, the first 3-4 weeks are a real struggle. Every time you put on your running shoes, you wonder why you are doing it. But one day, after about 3 weeks, you will suddenly feel the wind at your back, and you will run easily and smoothly without effort. Running will get easier from then on, and the good days will increase while the hard days recede. Enjoy it: you have become a runner.

A 6 month running programme for beginners

W10 = Walk for 10 minutes. R10 = Run for 10 minutes.

One of our former club track coaches, Derek Turner, has also written a training programme for beginners, which is based on the principle of listening to your body.

The Joys of Jogging

Scientists say they have proof that jogging makes you live longer. So why aren't we all doing it? The problem is that taking those first few steps can be quite an ordeal, as Emily Wilson found out.

By Emily Wilson, Guardian, Tuesday September 12, 2000

No one looks cool jogging. And no one looks clever (although they may well look big). The fact is that, for anyone who doesn't jog, jogging is for mugs. Saddos. The kind of people who freak out when they finish their 800th sit-up and find that someone is using the gym machine that they were planning to use next (which means – gasp – messing with their gym programme).

If you don't jog, jogging is also, quite simply, impossible. When you do run for a couple of minutes - when needs really must – you find yourself beetroot-red in the face, slick with sweat and barely able to breathe. It is disgusting, painful and undignified. And if in a two-minute dash to a bus stop you can be reduced to such a revolting wreck, what would happen in four minutes? Or even 10? How can it be physically possible to run for 20, which is how long they say (laugh) "beginners" should jog for?

I jog now, very slowly, but very definitely and sort of regularly (in a random kind of way), and I enjoy it. Or at least feel smug and energetic and quite holy for having done it. I don't care that people tease me for shuffling along so slowly or for chatting so much while I shuffle. I am a jogging evangelist: I think it is the best exercise anyone could possibly do and I think that it has a more profound impact on your body than anything else you can do. If you want to get fit, lose weight or chill out, there's nothing better.

There will always be people who preach the evils of jogging – we've all heard about dedicated joggers dropping dead in their running shoes at the age of 50 - but in last week's British Medical Journal, Danish researchers said that their study of 20,000 people showed that regular joggers are far less likely to die prematurely than non-joggers.

So it's good for you. But how to start? I'll never forget how hard it was at the beginning: gazing up at an Everest-scape of sweat and panting, and knowing that I would never be able to do it and that even if I did it would be terminally boring. The start of me and my jogging came roughly seven years after I had last done any credible form of exercise (hockey, at school), when I joined a gym and was "inducted". They looked at me and pinched the skin on my ribs and hips with calipers and asked if I smoked (I lied) and was told off for having drunk a coffee before coming for my induction (they smelt it on my breath - at four paces!). Then I was asked to climb on and off a box a few times. "D'you know what?" the woman said, looking at her stopwatch. "Let's leave the fitness test until later, a few months or so – it will be more encouraging that way."

Then she took me around the machines and gave me a list of exercises, with a note of how long I should do each for. After five minutes of cycling as a warm-up, my chief task was to spend about 15 minutes on a running machine. Walking for two minutes, jogging for two minutes, walking for two minutes...

And so I began. To get to the end of each two minutes of jogging was definitely on the vile side of OK, but it wasn't impossible. There was no minimum speed limit: I blobbed along awkwardly, vaguely shame-faced, at walking pace. And the two minutes of walking in between was fine. I was on a running machine, for God's sake, and I had a tailor-made gym programme: I was on the road to health and fitness. Years of smoking, drinking and sloth neatly expunged.

For the next three months or so, I stuck rigidly to my "running" routine. I went to the gym three times a week, pretty much, and I did my two minutes jogging, two minutes walking... Slowly, it became easy. I stopped going red in the face and I stopped feeling uncomfortable. The woman in the gym persuaded me to buy proper shoes (those expensive cross trainer things) and a proper jogging bra (if you can breathe or look as if you still have breasts, it is not tight enough), but I refused a further instruction session: there was no need. I was on the road: it was go, go, go.

Then one morning a friend joined me at the gym. Not a fitness freak but an ordinary woman. I watched her jog, next to me, for 16 minutes. No backchat, no fuss, no comment. No, "Look, I am jogging. I am running. I am a hero." When I got off, at the end of my programme, she continued for another four minutes, but said nothing about it. She did not take me aside and say, "I have just jogged for 20 minutes. My life will never be the same again."

It was then I realised that the jogging-walking thing was over. Jogging is like a relationship, the woman in the gym said, and a relationship is, she went on, very much like a shark: if it's not moving forward, it's dead in the water.

It was time to take the next step: continuous jogging. A big, long chunk of continuous jogging. At walking pace, clearly, but continuous. First four minutes, then six minutes... all very dull. Much duller than two minutes. It was during this period that I took the big step off the running machine and into the outside. I went for "a run" in the park. The first thing I noticed was how much faster the time went by outside. Ducks, swans, leaves, dog shit, pedestrians, people on roller blades, other joggers (how quickly they all went); a world of amusement to keep my mind from my watch. Within a month I was going for 20-minute runs. About 30 minutes door to door, with walking at each end. No equipment, no fuss and bother getting to a gym. No faffing about.

Enter another friend, a regular jogger. He watched me run (walking alongside me) and said that there was no point in going so slowly. It was doing me no good at all. I wasn't sweating and I wasn't getting out of breath and all I was really doing was walking in a sort of jogging motion. Which was better than doing nothing, but probably not quite as good as walking quickly in a normal fashion.

And so it came to pass: I speeded up. Not so many people would notice, but just a bit. Just a bit so that I was sort of running, really, although very slowly, rather than walking. A major breakthrough.

A marathon-running friend of my mother told me not long afterwards that I was doing fine. She said not to listen too much to macho male joggers anyway: they all had their own theories, and most of them were rubbish. She said the secret was to never run at a speed that it was uncomfortable to chat at. Gradually the speed at which I could comfortably chat would increase, and every now and then I should simply consider speeding up a bit, just to see if I could.

About eight months into my new life as a jogger, I returned to the gym for my fitness test. I was weighed and found that without ever actually getting unpleasantly tired or ever having gasped for breath, I had lost about eight pounds. The woman strapped wires to me while I cycled and said I was on the "very fit" bit of the scale. (A dodgy scale, undoubtedly, but thrilling all the same.)

And just like that, I was a new woman. I could run for buses without breaking into a sweat. When I tested it, I found that having broken through the 20-minute barrier, I could comfortably blob along for an hour without any bother at all.

People complain that if they run they get sore knees or bad hips, or pains in their shins, but I suspect they're simply running too fast and too long, on unforgiving surfaces, such as Tarmac, and failing to chat enough. I can't imagine that my 20 minutes spent scuffing up the grass, two or three times a week, is seriously going to damage me.

My love of jogging is now about three years old and naturally, the love is prone to dips. For the past four months, I've barely been out to the park once a week. But somehow, it doesn't matter. The point is now that however slack I am, however long I leave between runs, I can still go out and jog for 20 minutes, and feel better for it. I know that the difference between slothdom and fitness is just a few gentle jogs away. Having overcome the horror of it that once, I know it will never be that hard again.

And the best of it, the very best of it, is that not only is jogging free, but you can do it anywhere – along a mountain ridge, barefoot on a beach – wherever you find yourself.

Best foot forward: how to get started

• Before you start, walk for a while or, if you're in a gym, do a few minutes cycling, just to warm up your muscles.
• After the warm-up do about five minutes of gentle stretches. Get someone to come up with a routine for you if you have no idea how to start. Don't forget to stretch your arms, back and sides – jogging isn't just about your legs.
• Start jogging slowly. You cannot start too slowly. Don't worry about feeling silly.
• Alternate jogging with walking, until you feel happy leaving out the walking bits.
• In the first weeks, jog or walk-jog for not more than about 15 or 20 minutes at a time. At first, twice a week is plenty. Later you can up it to three times a week (after about four sessions, though, you're in danger of becoming a freak).
• The right kit is essential. You have to buy trainers that are specifically designed for jogging, ideally for both outside and inside a gym. And if you start jogging regularly, you're meant to buy a new pair every six months. For women, an ordinary bra will not do. You need something that squishes your breasts against your ribcage and holds them completely still while you run. Anything else is a grave error. Other than that, you can wear anything you don't mind getting sweaty and doesn't restrict your movement or chafe your skin.
• If your muscles hurt or you have any sharp pains or complaints, don't jog. Likewise if you're clinically obese. Do something more gentle, like swimming or brisk walking.
• Remember that just because you are a champion swimmer or a world class climber, doesn't mean you're going to find jogging easy. You only train for what you train for: every sport uses a different set of muscles.

Blood, Sweat and Spirit

Why would you do it? Train for months, neglect your family – and all to run 26 miles of pure agony. Because therein lies life, says Julie Welch.

(This article was first published in the Independent on Sunday on 16 January 2000. It is reproduced here on the Serpentine website by kind permission of Julie Welch. Julie is also the author of "26.2: Running the London Marathon", a book about a number of people's experiences of the London marathon. It was published by Yellow Jersey Press and is available 'used' on Amazon).

I got it before Christmas, a bug, a virus that I've had every year for the past four. It's caused by the same thing every time – the arrival through the letter box of a rather dull-looking envelope that nearly goes in the bin with other junk mail until I realise what it contains: hope, pain, magic, rage, fantasy, disappointment, exhaustion and rapture.

I've got a place in the London Marathon again.

I know the symptoms, the cause of the disease. I will get concrete-hard calluses on my heels, blackened toenails, metatarsals that crack like dry twigs when I step out of bed in the morning. Between now and 16 April I will go off-line socially, all my spare hours spent running, my conversation pared down to training schedules or whether to go for motion control shoes or cushioned. No one will ask me anywhere because I will have become a running bore. And I won't only be boring, I'll look weird. Running apparel is functional, not alluring. I'll spend my days in thermal tops, damp T-shirts, Lycra shorts with a pattern designed by blind confetti-throwers. It's not even as though I can make a fortune from writing about my obsession. Not unless the market picks up for self-help manuals about Middle-Aged Women Who Love Running Marathons Too Much, or The Little Book Of Isotonic Drinks.

I will lose touch with my sons, my family. I will only go around with other people training for the London Marathon, lovely people who would never cross my path if it wasn't for running: midwives, quantity surveyors, recovered drug addicts, telephone engineers, proprietors of ironing service companies, jobbing gardeners, singers in girl bands. At this time of year they are soul mates, comrades in arms, the only people I want to see, the only ones who can understand my fixations.

Above all, in the coming three months, I will be chasing my nirvana – the sub-four-hour marathon. Every year is the year I'm going to run sub-four. Twenty-six miles in less than four hours – it's not much to ask. Given a strong heart, youth and a bit of determination, a beginner can do it. OK, I'm half a century old, but my friend Max won't see 70 again and he gets depressed if he isn't through the finish line and into his tin-foil blanket in time for lunch. And to put his 3hrs 30mins in perspective, whoever wins London 2000 could be home and dry in not much more than 2hrs 7mins.

But I come to the marathon from a background of almost awesome unathleticism. My sole track triumph at school was in the obstacle race when I was seven (I seem to remember there was a heavy drop-out rate in the starting line-up due to German measles). For a good 15 years of my adult life I smoked 40 cigarettes a day, went everywhere by taxi and was proud of my ability to consume my 21 weekly units of alcohol in a single lunchtime. When I was 40, I couldn't run upstairs, let alone 26.2 miles. On a scale of fat blobbiness, I was definitely at the Pavarotti end.

Now I'm fit, strong and hardy, but much good will it do me when it comes to standing on the start line in Greenwich Park this April. Last year I did 20-mile training runs every Sunday through March, flung myself resolutely into speedwork sessions, had gait analysis, renounced booze, embraced pasta. Then I went out and ran London in a time of such humiliating extenuation that the winners would have been able to go round twice, and then jogged over to the Ritz to blow some of the winnings on tea.

The thing is, I'm just not shaped like a runner. My legs are short and my frame is dumpy. My style is idiosyncratic. I lean forwards, glare at the ground and pump my right arm vigorously. If ever you need to pick me out in a group of runners, I'm the one who look as though she's pushing an imaginary Hoover. It takes me eight minutes 45 seconds to run a mile. That's on a good day, a very good one. More often, we're talking something rather tennish in nature.

I've run the London Marathon three times now, so I know I can do it. Non-running friends say, "You've proved your point, so why not pack up?" Well, why don't I? In fact, the one thing I never question is why I go back again and again to this annual festival of trashed dreams, this activity that engulfs so much of my time and earns me diddly-squat, this thing that makes me red in the face and ensures that for 48 hours after every race I walk like John Wayne. It's just not possible to intellectualise about it, though just say the word and I will tell you everything about how the Marathon exposes you to all your qualities, good and bad; how a journey on foot through London mirrors life with all its glories and pitfalls; how each Marathon plunges you into a different sea of feeling – one year joy, the next fury, the next despair, the next wonder.

It must be something to do with the distance. Because of the way we are made, 26 miles is just too far to run. You can do 20 miles and feel OK afterwards. The extra six are the dark night of the soul. The physiological reason for hitting the wall is the metabolic changeover that takes place after so long on the road, when the body has used up all its reserves of glycogen and switches to burning fat. You are only wishing GBH on the runner who's just steamed past you because you're dehydrated. These seem such prosaic explanations for the psychological and emotional battering that takes place in the last few miles, pushing yourself to put one foot in front of the other, floundering, walking, then shambling into a run again, swept along in a current of grimacing fellow-sufferers who are all experiencing their own individual drownings. The last stage, from Limehouse to the Mall, must be one of the loneliest six miles on earth.

Shortly after my second London, when I hobbled into a smart Covent Garden restaurant for lunch with some dedicatedly sedentary friends, they sighed and sympathised and then asked, "Why do you do it?""Because," I said, "it puts me completely in touch with my power." I know, though they were too polite to do so, that they were itching to say, "Are you mad?" Probably, in their terms, I am. I make jokes about my marathon running because if I owned up to how passionately, mystifyingly in love with it I feel people would think me gushing, hearty or, worst of all, deranged, the kind of crazy you're anxious will sit next to you on a train.

You have to run the Marathon to know what it does to you, to understand why your eyes fill up as you pass over Tower Bridge into a city free of cars, to experience – and I don't say this lightly – the almost suicidal desolation of dragging yourself from Mile 22 to Mile 24, and the sweetness of deliverance when you cross the finish line and wonderful, smiley people hang a medal round your neck and give you a white-bread cheese-and-tomato sandwich. How can you explain that it's as glorious at that minute as caviar and champagne? How do you tell someone who has never run for hours in a 30,000-strong human pack that it puts you in touch with all runners everywhere, past and present; that to run a big city marathon is to log on to the collective unconscious?

I know that a lot of club runners, the sort who clock up 60 training miles a week and effortlessly take in three marathons a year, think that London is old hat, a spent thrill, a devalued circus, not a patch on the Throgmorton Ultramarathon (or whatever). They can think what they like. I just look at the sheer numbers who turn up every year to do it, in times that range from just over two hours to nearly a day, and marvel at what the human spirit is capable of.

I used to have this dream as a child. I'm speeding away from the goal mouth at Wembley having just completed my hat-trick for Spurs in the FA Cup. I'd wake up to the sad recognition that I would be forever ruled out from such a feat not just by gender but by my stupendous lack of talent. I'll never know what it's like to hold a Centre Court crowd in the palm of my hand, or be King of the Mountains. For me and the thousands of others who line up in Greenwich on 16 April 2000, this is our chance to take part in a great sporting event.

I haven't run my sub-four marathon yet. I can't see this year will be any different from the others – not without a leg transplant, anyway. I hope it will be better than last year, when I set off too fast, drained all my reserves by Jamaica Road, and staggered up the Mall like one of the undead with the timer past 5.00. Perhaps I might barge across the line in four and a half but oddly, the more I think about it, the more I know it's unimportant. Every London Marathon so far, I've discovered something much better about myself than the fact I can run 26 miles more or less slowly – the knowledge that I can make it through, on my own.

26.2: Running the London Marathon by Julie Welch, published by Yellow Jersey Press.

The Summer League

The Summer League is an inter-club competition of five races between June and August at various venues around London. The clubs in the league this year are Dulwich Park Runners, Metros, Ealing, Southall and Middlesex, Mornington Chasers, Serpentine RC, Sudbury Court, Ealing Eagles and Queens Park Harriers.

The main event is a 5 mile or 10km race which covers all standards and is based at a park local to the host club. Following the main event there is a shorter'tenderfoot'(1.5-2km) race suitable for children, runners returning from injury and runners who prefer to run a shorter distance. Finally there is a series of optional, light hearted, age graded, 300-400m relays, again suitable for all ages and abilities.

There is no need to enter in advance - just turn up on the day in your Serpie vest/shirt, the entry fee is paid by the club. All levels, new and regular runners welcome, although you must be a Serpentine club member. The events are family oriented so do bring children, they can also participate in the tenderfoot race and/or the relays. 

Lunch, in the form of sandwiches and cakes, is provided by the hosting club. Trophies are awarded at the end of the year for individuals in their age categories based on their best three performances in the five races.

2013 Dates

The dates of the Summer League are also listed in the Serpentine Planner.

Contact

summerleague@serpentine.org.uk

Rosenheim League

The Rosenheim League is an inter-club competition for senior and U17 athletes (note: no U15 or U13), comprising six fixtures held on Wednesday evenings between May and August. The league is split into two divisions and we are in the Eastern Division. At the end of the season the leading clubs in the two divisions meet in a "final" to decide the overall champions. We first entered the Rosenheim League in 2001.

Each meeting has a wide-ranging track programme covering distances from 100m to 3000m. The programme also includes two jumps and two throws and one hurdle race, these events varying from fixture to fixture.

From 2005 on there has been a scoring competition for women as well. Women score in one sprint (100m, 200m or 400m), one middle distance race (800m, 1500m or 3000m), one jump and one throw.

Each club can have as many competitors as they want and each athlete can take part in as many events a they want. The entry is free for Serpentine members but you need to wear your club vest in an event in order to score.

Contacts

Richard Taylor and David Robinson