“The race started and almost immediately stopped due to a giant puddle on the course. Runners will run through anything – illness, injury or bad weather but it seems most won’t run through a puddle. Everyone gingerly tried to tip toe through or around it.”
Yesterday, I did the Kirkintilloch 12.5K and the race started and almost immediately stopped due to a giant puddle on the course. Runners will run through…you can guess the rest.
I wonder if this means there’s a gap in the sports shoe market for running welly boots! I should pitch my idea to the BBC’s Dragons Den. Even Dragons must prefer dry socks on a run.
The race was great fun but very cold. There was ice on the local roads but, thankfully, the course was clear of it. I’d done a long run the previous day so I did the race as a tempo training run rather than a full on sprint . I was happy with my steady pace and time.
The most interesting thing about the race is the town itself. Kirkintilloch used to have the slogan “Canal capital of Scotland” until people painted over the “C”
It now has the slogan “A walkers are welcome town” which will last until someone paints over the first “l” with an “n!”
I think they need to work on getting better slogans.
Before this year I’d entered the Buchlyvie 10k three times but completed it zero times! In fact, up until this weekend, I’d never made it to the start line.
My first attempt ended when I discovered how long it took to drive to Buchlyvie from where I stayed in Glasgow. I didn’t want to drive so I didn’t bother going.
My second attempt ended when it started raining before I’d left the house. I didn’t want to get wet so I didn’t bother going.
My third time was last year. I now live much closer to Buchlyvie so I couldn’t use distance as an excuse. It wasn’t raining so I couldn’t use the rain as an excuse. Unfortunately, it was snowing so I used snow as an excuse.
The phrase “if at first you don’t succeed then try, try again” should really be “if at first you don’t succeed and its not raining, snowing or too far away then try again!”
The race starts on a small pitch next to a church. After the start there was a small lane from the pitch to the main road. There was a very large puddle in the lane which had no way round it. Now – I’ll run through just about anything. I’ll run through the pain barrier, I’ll run through atrocious weather, I’ll run through the night. There’s nothing I won’t run through…except a puddle. I’m not getting my trainers dirty or my feet wet!
So the race started and almost immediately it stopped. It turns out most runners don’t like puddles. Everyone gingerly tried to tip toe through the puddle before starting running again once they reached the main road
The rest of the course was an out and back run along an off road track. There was a strong head wind on the way out which annoyingly didn’t seem to give much of a push on the way back.
I was happy with my form. I was aiming for 45 minutes but considering the slow start the off road track and the head wind I was happy with 46 minutes.
Afterwards I got a text from a friend asking if I’d picked up a post race goodie bag from the hall. DOH!!! I’d forgotten to collect it.
For the last five years I’ve played squash every Friday lunchtime. I play the same man at the same time with the same result – I lose. I occasionally win but it’s very rare. One year, I did not win a single match.
People ask me – why do you play if you always lose?
I play because our matches are very competitive. The result feels like it could go either way even though it only ever goes one way.
Last year I asked myself – how do I stop losing?
I concluded that I needed to stop giving away silly points. If I stop giving him points then surely I’d stop losing.
I didn’t. I kept losing. I lost every week until I realized I had asked myself the wrong question. I shouldn’t have asked – how do I stop losing? I should have asked – how do I start winning?
My mentality was wrong. You can can’t win by trying not to lose. You win by trying to win.
So I came up with a plan to start playing with my head, not my hand. Think about where the shot should go. Play shots that will win the point.
Since making the change I’ve won every match.
The more matches I win, the more my opponent has become tetchy and annoyed. He now shouts and yells when his shots go wrong!
What he shouts the most is:
“IT’S NOT A TENNIS BALL!!!!”
This occurs because he plays tennis and sometimes miss-hits volleys because of the different weight of a squash ball compared to a tennis ball.
Despite repeatedly shouting this during matches his volleying is still costing him points.
I could tell him how to fix the problem but I’m quite enjoying my current winning run and don’t want it to end.
So I’ll wait a few weeks and then tell him he needs to change his mentality. He needs to shout
A wise man once said: “You should try anything once.”
What a stupid saying! There’s loads of things I shouldn’t try – not even once.
Should I poke a sleeping lion in the stomach? No, I’ve been mauled by my cat for giving him a friendly tummy rub. Imagine what the king of the jungle would do if I poked him in the guts and called him a fattyfatty bum bum.
Should I paint my body blue, stick on a white beard and demand everyone call me Papa Smurf? No – I’d look look like a fat extra from Avatar.
Should I attempt one of the hardest extreme triathlons on the planet? DOH! I entered Norseman.
So, when given the opportunity to do Mysore yoga I asked will it kill me or open me to ridicule? Thankfully, the answers were “no” and “maybe.” I was worried about the maybe…
In a standard yoga class a teacher leads the students through a sequence of moves. In Mysore a student leads themselves through a sequence at their own pace. Everyone in the class follows the same sequence but the pace may be different.
The class started at 0630 but I could join anytime up till 0700. I need as much beauty sleep as I can get. I turned up at 0659. This meant everyone else had already started.
The Mysore sequence is like building IKEA furniture. If you don’t do it in the right order then a bit won’t fit where you want no matter how far you bend it.
Now imagine building a Kvlar wardrobe but only having the picture of a wardrobe as your guide. That’s Mysore.
I knew I needed to start by standing at the top of the mat. I also knew I had to finish by lying flat but I couldn’t remember the steps in between.
I looked around the class. One woman was bent over in a position her chiropractor would call “a broken spine”. Another girl was wrapped so tightly together only a can opener was going to get her unwrapped.
I decided to do neither of those moves. I attempted a bend from the hip. No one laughed so I thought I might be onto something. I do a few more bends to waste a few minutes. The teacher comes over “what are you doing?”
“Warming up?”
She says “Let me give you a guide”.
Great! That’ll help. She hands me some pics of people in positions that would be called pornographic if there was a partner involved. She says “Just do two of these and then three of these.”
I look at the diagram. It might as well be in Hindi as I don’t understand any of it. It turns out it is in Hindi.
I do a few more hip bends. I think I might be the best hip bender in the class. In fact, I think I might be the biggest bender here. Ummm that doesn’t sound right…
She come back over. “What are you doing?”
“Still warming up?” I reply.
“No your supposed to be doing this sequence.” She demonstrates it.
“Ahhh, it’s that sequence. I understand now.” I don’t.
She leaves. I bend my hips some more. I think if there was a hip bending competition in the Olympics I’d win a gold medal.Unless there was a Russian hip bender. He’d probably cheat and I’d get silver. I’d be gutted when I hear the Russian national anthem as we stand on the medal podium. Years later it would be discovered he was cheating! He’d get disqualified. I’d be the belated champion but it wouldn’t be the same. Instead of a podium I’d get my medal through the post. Damn you, Sergei!
She interrupts my daydream, “what are you doing?”
“I’ve warmed up!” I confidently state.
She takes pity on me. “Just lie down. Do you want a blanket to keep warm?”
“No thanks, I don’t like blankets of any size,shape or texture. You you might say I have a blanket ban…”
She doesn’t laugh. It’s probably too early in the morning for chuckles.
I give it five minutes and when she’s busy adjusting/torturing another Mysore student I sneak out.
The wise man was correct to say “do anything once” but he should also have said – don’t do it twice!
One of the signs I am getting old was seeing my Secondary School and thinking how much it had changed since I attended it. It was a very minor change – the Council had knocked it down and built a new one!
Previously, a road ran past the front of the school. The road has been replaced by a very large building. This is very annoying as the road was a shortcut from my home to the shops in town.
I did think about cutting through the school to save me a five minute detour but for some reason schools frown upon middle-aged men roaming the playgrounds.
That road has a special place in my sporting heart and history. It was where I became the fastest boy in school history. How I felt when I saw it was gone is how Andy Murray would feel if Wimbledon was knocked down and replaced by a Tesco Metro. He’d probably need a sit down – although that might be due to his dodgy hip.
It happened during my 5th year of secondary school. During PE lessons the class would take part in a 100m race. The course was setup on the road outside the school.
The PE teacher picked one of the other boys to go out with a measuring wheel to mark the start and the end of the course. Once it was setup the class lined up at the start.
I don’t think I warmed up before the race. This was the 1990’s. Warming up hadn’t been invented yet.
We didn’t have blocks so it was a standing start. The gym teacher blew his whistle. I started running with all the forward momentum of a conservative MP stepping forward in support of Theresa May i.e. I dithered a bit and then when I noticed everyone else was doing it I stepped forward too.
I covered the first 50M swiftly and was soon near the front running alongside a boy wearing Joe Bloggs jeans. He’d forgotten his shorts but he didn’t care as he knew the Jeans made him the coolest guy in our year. I knew he’d slow down towards the end as he wouldn’t want to get the jeans sweaty.
In the last 10m I was Eric Carmen! No not the kid from South Park but the man who wrote and sang All By Myself. {NOTE: I thought the reference would be less obscure but as I’ve gone to the trouble of googling who sang All By Myself then I’m going to keep it in!]
And then I was over the line. I couldn’t believe it. I’d won. The teacher couldn’t believe it. My time was unbelievable!
I was so fast my name should really be UsIain Bolt Todd.
What neither I nor the teacher knew at the time was the boy who’d been sent out to mark the course didn’t know how to use a meter roller so he’d just taken a guess at how far 100m was. He’d actually created a course of 81m.
This was discovered when another PE teacher heard about the time and realised that a runner as slow as myself could not possibly have run the time claimed.
I was the fastest boy in the history of the school….for about ten minutes and then it was annulled.
My goal for 2018 is to be the fastest cyclist over the Crow Road. It’s a fairly long climb heading north, out of Lennoxtown. It’s a favourite route of central Scotland cyclists.
It was also a training route for Scottish professional cyclist Philippa York (previously known as Robert Millar) She would ride a dozen reps of it as preparation for the Tour de France.
I could spend months training hard to achieve my goal or I could cheat! As I don’t have any asthma spray and I don’t have Chris Froome’s mobile number to ask to borrow his, I used my wits.
The easiest way to be the fastest cyclist in 2018 is to be the first cyclist in 2018.
Yesterday, I got up early and made sure I was on the route as the sun came up. It was a beautiful morning, made even more beautiful when I got back to the house and checked Strava.
I’m King of the Crow 2018…as long as I don’t check the leader-board again till 2019.
There are three types of twin – identical, fraternal and Jedward.
Identical twins are… identical (no surprise there, the clue’s in the name). Fraternal twins are brother and sister. Jedward twins are f&%ing mental! Two untalented brothers who hang out together, have the same hobbies and laugh at each others jokes.
Andrew and I are identical twins!
Ignore anyone who says: “are you sure you aren’t Jedward twins?” We are identical but there is one thing we differ on – music.
I read with interest his top 10 of the year. I’m not sure he was entirely honest with the readers of this blog.
Andrew has a giant picture of Justin Bieber on his bedroom wall. He’s a member of the Belieber fan club. He took Spanish lessons just to understand what JB was singing in Despacito.
What I’m saying is that it was surprising that JB’s no 1 fan, Andrew, had a lack of Bieber action in his top 10.
Andrew, it’s okay! You’re amongst friends. You don’t have to pretend you like cool London bands like The Horrors. Embrace your inner Justin and scream “baby, baby, baby, ooooooooooh”
So, instead of his list, here’s my selection. Which I have not filtered to be cool!
Arcade Fire – Everything Now
I don’t normally like Arcade Fire. I saw them play Glasgow University on there first ever visit to the UK. The drummer had a wee bird flapping about inside his drum kit. I couldn’t enjoy the gig because I kept wondering:
A) Did he put it there? If so, that seems very cruel.
B) If he didn’t put it there, should I have told him there was a bird trapped in his drum?
This though is a great upbeat song with hints of ABBA. Pity, the rest of the album was rubbish.
Bon Appetit – Katy Perry
This song follows the great American song writing tradition of writing about sex whilst pretending to be about something else. It goes back to Chuck Berry singing about his ding a ling, 50 Cent discussing his lollipop and just about every song on an R Kelly album.
This song is not cool or clever but it does have great production and it always makes me laugh because like all the other songs its pretty blatant what its actually about.
Richard Ashcroft – Hold On
Back in the 90’s I loved britpop. I grew my hair to look like Liam Gallacher. Thankfully only one photo existed of this. I look like a twat. I destroyed the photo.
This was a great return to form for Richard Ashcroft. Who’s mostly stayed out of the limelight since the end of Britpop. He can still write a great tune.
Plan B – Hearbeat
Plan B wrote the greatest song of the last ten years – Ill Manors. An angry punk/rap song that was a retort to David Cameron. It’s accompanied by a self written/self directed film of the same name which showed exactly what its like to grow up in London of ‘Broken Britain’. It’s not an easy watch but check it out if you can.
He’s also been out of the limelight for a few years but this showcases his talent: great vocals and great tune.
Galway Girl – Ed Sheeran
Is this the worst song ever made?
It certainly elicited the best review of the year (in The Guardian)
“The people of Galway must be hoping a nuclear bomb goes off in their county to save them the embarrassment of having to say – yes that Ed Sheeran song is about us.”
It’s a song so awful even his record company begged him to not include it on his album.
But my song of the year is Galway Girl because I admire a man who released a song even though he knew everyone would hate him. That’s more punk than any punk song. Just don’t make me listen to it!
PS Normal sporty related blogs will resume in the New Year. Over Christmas it’s just blogs about films/music and any other nonsense 🙂
The Chinese philosopher Confucius wrote “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
The approximate distance from my house near Glasgow to Eidfjord (the Norwegian town where Norseman starts) is 1000 miles.
And I don’t step anywhere until I’ve booked a flight, arranged a hire car and reserved accommodation with AirBnB. So, forget what Confucius said, the phrase should be: a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single… mouse click.
Click 1 – Arrange a support crew.
It’s compulsory to have a support crew. Previously I did this by myself for Andrew. That worked fine but, if I’d had to run the final leg, then the logistics would have been tricky. This time I’ll have two support crew. It’ll make it a more enjoyable day for all of us.
Click 2 – Arrange a flight
There’s two flights from Scotland to Norway. One goes from Edinburgh to Oslo, the other from Aberdeen to Bergen. Bergen is the closer to Eidfjord but Aberdeen is much further from my house. The time I’d save driving in Norway would be lost driving in Scotland. I therefore booked a flight to Oslo.
Click 3 – Arrange accommodation
Eidfjord is very small with limited accommodation but I managed to arrange an Airbnb for a small village nearby – Ovre Eidfjord. I booked a chalet in Rjukan for the finish. I’ve stayed there before. They sell great pizza on site which I’m looking forward to having after the race.
Click 4 – Train for the race
I asked Google “How do I train for Norseman?”
Google replied: “Stop sitting on your ass at the computer!! You won’t get anywhere until you step outside!”
Last week I attended a coached swim session. It was great. It’s much more enjoyable swimming with others than doing so by myself.
The only problem is:
Triathletes lie about their ability.
Triathletes are really competitive
I discovered this when the coach said: “I’d like you all to swim eight lengths (200m) of the pool at 70% race pace. I’ll time you. Who wants to go first?”
No one volunteered to go first.
“Come on! Who’s fastest?”
Everyone started looking at each other in the same way a lift of strangers look at each other after one person has farted. Who is it?
I looked at the man next to me. He was solid muscle. His back had the classic v-profile of an Olympic swimmer. He wore tiny Speedos that were so small and revealing they looked like they’d been tattoo’d to his crotch. His swim goggles cost more than my last car.
“Hurry up! Someone has to go first!”
The only time I’ve been mistaken for a swimmer was when a hairdresser said to me “Are you a swimmer?” I beamed with pride and replied “yes” thinking it was because of my swimmers physique – but my pride was quickly punctured when the hairdresser said “I thought so – I looked at your hair. It’s in terrible condition. It’s dry from chlorine.”
My swim shorts are run shorts. There’s no point buying one pair for running and one for swimming and it means my run shorts get a wash. My goggles are whatever I can find in the lost and of found bucket of my local pool. I am not a swimmer.
He looked at me again. It wasn’t that he was in a different league to me. It was that we aren’t even playing the same sport.
He said: “you first, mate”
I replied, “no thanks. You should definitely go first.”
He thought about it and said, “no – I think your quicker.”
So I went first. I had a five second head start. On the sixth second, he caught up.
I went as fast as I could but he kept having to stop to wait for me.
After we’d finished eight laps the coach said, “are you all happy with your time?”
The man who couldn’t have been more like a fish even if he’d had gills said, “I could have gone faster but I got help up!” Maybe if you hadn’t lied about your ability you wouldn’t have got held up. If you’re good at something it’s ok to say your good at it.
I then looked round and saw everyone else. It was like the scene at the start of Saving Private Ryan. Bodies were strewn in the water. People screaming in agony. One man looked like he’d swum himself into a heart attack.
The coach asked “Was that 70% effort?” No-one replied. They were all completely f&%ked!
At last the man having the heart attack said through wheezy, definitely non competitive, gasps of death “I think I went 65%!”
I have wee’d in Harry Potter’s author J K Rowling’s driveway. It is not my proudest moment…
Even worse than that – I met her at an event and, instead of saying, “Hi there, I really enjoy your books,” I said “Hi there, I pished on your gate.”
I told her she could use it in a book – Harry Potter and the Search for a Toilet. A book where Harry Potter has one too many Butter Beers and then tries to make it home. She’s not written it… yet…
Triathlete’s claim an IronMan is the hardest event on earth. It’s not. The hardest event on earth is trying to unlock a door, hopping from one foot to the other, whilst desperate for the loo.
Rowling owns a country house in Perthshire. The house is peaceful and quiet but a b-road passes by her front gate. Every May the Caledonia Etape Cycling Sportive uses the road. 5,000 cyclists pass the entrance to her house but one year instead of wiz’ing by I wiz’ed in a different manner.
I was desperate for the loo and I saw her path was conveniently located close to the road. A bush next to the gate hid me from the view of other cyclists. I knew it was her house but resisted the urge to shout, whilst gripping my wand, “Expelliarmus!!!!”.
I’ve started planning my 2018 “season” hopefully I’ll avoid any incidents with beloved children’s authors! I’m picking races based on the closeness to my house and ones I’ve done before and enjoyed.
Twin brothers swimming, cycling and running in Scotland 