I like sports that end on time. Sports that you know when they will finish when you start watching them. Athletics will be near to or close to a world record time. The 100m is not going to be three hours long. Marathons are not going to be 20 minutes. Football is 90 minutes. You can plan around sports with a deadline, you know what you need to do and how long you need to do it.

Tennis on the other hand can last 60 minutes, it can last three days. That’s a commitment I can’t make when I’m sitting down to watch TV. I want to know when I’m going to be finished.

So, when I was lucky enough to get Centre Court tickets for Wimbledon I was wondering whether I would enjoy it or not. I thought I would enjoy it, I don’t mind watching a big of tennis. A bit. I didn’t know what it would be like to watch a game that might never end…

Before the games though, what was the experience of Wimbledon like?

First, getting there: this was straightforward. A busy, but not packed underground to Southfield station, a short walk to the grounds, a short queue to get in (though remember a photo ID for security if you’re the ticketholder) and then we were in the grounds. All very straightforward.

Second, what to do first? Mrs TwinBikeRun is a Wimbledon veteran who enters the ballot each year and queues early in the morning in the years she doesn’t get a ticket through the ballot. She said we should go to Courts 18 or 12 as they have high stands which allow you to see not just the court itself but other courts around the ground. We arrived at 11:20 and Court 18 was already full but Court 12 had spaces and we picked two seats right at the top, which was a good choice. It was 31 degrees and, at the top of the stand, there was a slight breeze. It was still tough in the direct sun but the breeze made a small but very happy difference.

Third, what’s going on? No idea for the first few games. It was a woman’s match with a British player, Heather Watson, in action. It’s was a decent game but I spent most of the time watching the grounds and other games and people.

Fourth, why were you not in Centre Court: it turns out it doesn’t start until later in the day (1:30pm) but the rest of the games start at 11am. We used the time to watch the first game and then get something to eat before going to centre court.

Fifth, what was the food like? Decent. We went to a large food hall below Centre Court for lunch of a wrap (basic, expensive but good quality) and we had a pizza later (much better than expected, crispy and decent dough) and mac & cheese (awful, pasta in a weak cheese juice, not sauce). There are queues, but everything was a queue and we never had to wait too long. 10 minutes at most.

Sixth, and drink? Water, lots of water. They had an Evian stand where you could buy a bottle for £5 and then get unlimited refills but there are also lots of water taps where you can water for free. We had two 750ml bottles at all times and must have drank 4 – 5 litres through the day to survive the heat.

Seventh, and Centre Court: fantastic, though we were lucky to be on the western side so had the benefit of shade from the roof. Even so, I used a small fan to cool myself. Though others there were more ingenious: one man had a cap with a fan and solar panel built into the rim, while another had a panel fan which they attached to the seat in front of them.

And, finally, how was the tennis? We saw the number 3 seed knocked out by an unseeded French tennis player and Novak Djovick suffer a slight scare as he fought to overcome an unseeded American. Both games lasted nearly seven hours. And I have to admit, I was never bored, but I was also not completely caught up in it either. My mind would wander. I’d try and spot famous people in the royal box (An Australian day it seem with Russell Crowe, Cate Blanchette and Rebel Wilson all in attendance), I’d watch what Cliff Richard was doing and tried to spot other British starts in Trevor McDonald, Alexander Armstrong, Justin Rose and Andy Murray’s mum, Judy.

It was easy to leave and get back into Centre Court. We had a break for dinner (the pizza and mac & cheese) and what was noticeable was that as the day went on, the crowd changed as ticket holders left and were replaced by fans who bought tickets that were resold. The atmosphere was certainly rowdier and louder as the day went on, but maybe that’s a result of people drinking or the fact Djovick is more well known and has his own fans out in support.

Overall, definitely an enjoyable day, and a great experience but, as the match didn’t finish until 1040, it was nearly 12 hours of tennis, whichI think may be enough tennis to last me the rest of my life…

Oh, and for getting home, it was a walk back to Southfield where the organisers ensure everyone remains on the pavement (“Get off the road, the council doesn’t let us use the road!”) and they control the number of people crossing roads to ensure that the station is able to cope with numbers. We only have five minute wait before getting on a train.

In two days Iain TwinBikeRun and I will both take part in the Celtman Solo Point Five race. We’ve done it before – see here – so I know the course and the challenge of swimming with jellyfish, cycling up the Beach Na Ba and running around Ben Eighe. It would be better if I also had the legs and arms to do all three rather than just the knowledge but, with two months of illness due TwinBikeChild bringing home every bug from her nursery, my training has been broken and inconsistent.

But, looking at my report from last time, I might still be in better shape than I thought going into the last race. Back then, I’d fractured my foot and had barely run in two months. At least this time I ‘recovered’ from the nursery bugs at the start of May and have at least 5 – 6 weeks of training.

12 weeks would be better. But at least I’ve been swimming, cycling and running as preparation rather than just swimming and cycling like last time.

Fingers crossed!

Every three years my work arranges for a medical check-up. The last time I went I got a clean bill of health except for my hearing as, according to their medical tests, I was “deaf”.

I wasn’t because I could hear them tell me this.

I said: “What?”

And they said “You’re deaf”

And I said “What?” because that joke never gets old.

It turned out that the machine used to test my hearing was broken. It was meant to go “beep” and I was meant to press a button to confirm every time I heard a sound but it went “beep” silently and then blamed me for not hearing it. A re-run of the test a couple of weeks later confirmed there was nothing wrong with my hearing and they said “you’ve got perfect hearing.”

And I said “What?”

And they said…

Told you this joke never gets old.

I was booked into this latest check-up with a different GP and, it turned out they ran a completely different series of tests. They didn’t even test my hearing, but they did record my weight by asking me to take off my shoes and socks and to stand on a metal plate while an electrode was clipped to my finger.

“This will record your body fat percentage,” they said.

And I said “What?” but it didn’t work this time as the test had nothing to do with hearing.

After checking my weight and then my height they confirmed that my body was 14.3% and I said: “WHAT!” as I genuinely couldn’t believe my ears. For the last five years, I’ve had electronic scales that rigidly and consistently told me my body fat was 24%, just shy of being technically obese.

I didn’t believe it but I also didn’t not believe it. I thought it must be accurate-ish and that, despite quite a lot of training at times, and looking more closely too a silhouette of a lamppost than a drummer from a marching band with a drum strapped to his chest, I thought my body fat must be on the high (but invisible) side.

But it wasn’t. It was just wrong. The machine was wrong, the reading was wrong and the whole time I’d been a perfectly normal and slim 14%.

So, if you want to lose weight then just give me a call and, for the right price, I have a weight machine to sell you. Just measure yourself for a year and then get someone else to do it properly and you too can lose 10% body fat just like that.

I’m in Edinburgh, and I’m watching a man blow a large, long thin bubble. 

“That’s right,” he said, “it’s a snake”.

I’m at a kids show and the performer on stage is asking us to guess the “bubble animals” as he guides us through the “bubble jungle” in “Bubbleland”.

“Maybe we’ll see a bubble lion? Or a bubble giraffe? Or even a bubble monkey!” He promises.

He blows another bubble. Kids shout guesses from the crowd.

“That’s right,” he said, “it’s a worm”.

Closely followed by an elephant’s trunk, a sausage dog with no legs, and another snake. 

“I don’t think a bubble can become an elephant,” I whisper to Mrs TwinBikeRun.

“I don’t think it can even become a snake,” she whispers as the bubble pops, yet again.

“I went to a bubble show last year,” said one of my colleauges, after I told them what I was doing. “At the end of the show, they said that they also had an adult only bubble show.”

“What’s an adult only bubble show,” I asked.

“You don’t want to know how they blow the bubble,” they said.

Thankfully the only ‘adult’ moment we had during the show was a strange reference to “When I was a soldier, carrying weapons of war…”.

What?! Weapons of war? Not even ‘bubble weapons of war?!?

At what point, when writing a show for three-year-old kids did the performer think it was right to mention military combat? And that it was better to say, “weapons of war” than to just say “gun”. Was he not carrying a gun? Was it another weapon? Was he carrying a rocket launcher and didn’t want to say that? Either way, he soon moved on and started talking about bubble animals again, but the moment was a strange left turn in an otherwise family friendly show.

“I’m glad we also have lunch to look forward to,” said Mrs TwinBikeRun. And so was I as the temptation to eat too much was irresistible and my original idea of going out for a run after we got home seemed as appropriate as a bazooka in a bubble show.  

My wife asked how many Mission Impossible films had been been made. I said eight. She said never.

“You’ve seen the first seven at least twice each,” I said.

“I don’t remember them,” she said, “there’s the one which starts in a restaurant.”

“That’s the first one,” I said.

“And the one where there’s a woman, and she’s the ‘bad guy’, and she’s on a train.”

“That’s the first one too.”

“Oh, and there’s the one where Tom Cruise hangs from a rope and steals something.”

“That’s also the first one.”

“Oh, then there’s the one he’s hanging off a building.”

“That’s the fourth one.”

“And the one with a desert storm.” She said.

“Also the fourth one.”

“Is that not all of them?”

Which means, according to my wife, there’s only been two Mission Impossible films, the first and the fourth ones – and not eight at all, which must be disappointing for Tom Cruise to hear after spending 30 years of his life running, jumping, hanging off things and generally risking his life for our entertainment.

It’s the same though with triathlons. No one keeps track of how many you do and no one, except you, can ever remember more than one of them afterwards.

For me, whenever someone asks me about triathlons (which is not often but occasionally happens with small talk), they always ask me about jumping off a ferry in Norway.

“You jumped off a ferry, didn’t you?” They ask.

And I say “yes” and then switch the conversation to pass over the fact I didn’t complete Norseman after getting hypothermia in the bike leg – more here.

I wonder if Tom Cruise has similar conversations.

“Hello Tom Cruise, you jumped off a mountain in Norway, didn’t you.”

He says “yes” and then moves the conversation on so he doesn’t have to talk about Dead Reckoning.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that while triathlons are fun and challenging – don’t expect anyone else to be interested in them. Even if you’re Tom Cruise.

I’ve covered the Mariners before: see here. And the main thing to know about the Martiner Centre is that it has a giant wave machine that switches on every 30 minutes. If you love waves then this is the place to go!

Cost: £5.20 as a non-member (£23 for a month’s pass)

Facilities: Decent but with a large key and band for your locker, which I always find slightly distracting to wear on the wrist.

Swimming pool: Waves!

Other facilities? Lots of waves!

Busy? Quiet during a lunchtime swim during term time. I imagine it would be much, much busier during the school holidays.

Recommended? If you love waves!

This is an easy review as this is my ‘home’ swimming pool. The Arlington Baths Club is a private swimming club in the Westend of Glasgow. It was opened in 1870 and while extensively modernised, it still retains many of the original features such as a trapeze above the swimming pool (you can only use it if there is no one swimming in the pool lane below); a Turkish suite, which is a medium heat sauna; and, a feature not often seen in swimming pools outside of hotels: a 21 metre pool.

The funny thing about the 21 metre pool is that the other private club in the Westend (The Western) is 27 metres. Together they are almost an average 25 metre pool length. But the Arlington has an advantage of the Western – it restricts swimming to one person per lane. So, if you’re swimming in the Arlington you are guaranteed a lane to yourself for your entire swim. You might think this leads to queues at the side of the pool as only 7 people can swim at a time, but, in the several years of being a member, I can only think of a handful of times I’ve had to queue. In the Western, it may be 27 metres, but it’s a free for all.

The reason the Arlington is quieter is that it’s a private member club. As the Arlington is club it has a limit on the number of members it admits. That means, at times, there may be a waiting list to join, even if there isn’t a waiting list at the pool. The Western is the same but, currently the Western is not admitting people until 2027 (!), the Arlington is much faster.

Swimming in the Arlington is relaxed and always a pleasure. It has several saunas and steam rooms along with a gym. The only annoying thing about it is that if you drive there the Council has extended the city centre parking zone to the streets surrounding the Arlington. Parking is expensive and, with street works going on over the last year, not an easy drive either to navigate the works and the queues of traffic. Hopefully that is easing as works complete.

Cost: £670 for an adult membership (monthly and concessions available)

Facilities: Clean and tidy with a free towel when you arrive. You can also keep your swimming costume at the club and it will be washed overnight after you use it so it’s ready for you to use again the next day.

Swimming pool: Warm but slightly choppy as the pool has high sides around the edge.

Other facilities? Steam rooms, sauna and gym.

Busy? As you get a lane to yourself, you never notice if it’s busy or not. .

Recommended? Yes!

Preparation.

I have a Kindle, a phone and an iPad for watching YouTube. Between the three I switch what I’m doing in a manner which would put any training programme to shame.

200w at 20 minutes at 100 R.P.M.? Not me, I have 20 minutes of Reddit then 20 minute break with a 10 minute videos at two V.P.M (video per 10 minute).

Sometimes I go for a longer ride. Maybe one video at 30 minutes or even an actual T.V programme. But nothing longer than 30 minutes, after 30 minutes the programmes start to become too long for the ride. You need constant stimulation and, after 30 minutes, my mind starts to zone out. I need a quick burst of CTN (checking the news) to return my dopamines to an acceptable level.

I know I could go outside and ride for two hours. But why do that? Have you tried balancing an iPad on your handlebars while waiting at traffic lights? Never again! It’s indoors for me!