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!

The current world record for 100m swimming was set at the Paris Olympics by Chinese swimmer Pan Zanhle. He won gold with a new record time of 46.40 seconds. 

100 years ago, the world record was 57.4 seconds and was held by American swimmer, Johnny Weissmuller, who became better known as an actor as Tarzan in 12 films from 1932 to 1948. 

It took 100 years for the world records to fall by 20 seconds yet, according to Strava, my times have fallen not just 20 but 40 seconds in just two months as all my swim times today showed 100m laps of seven seconds.

I could put this down as a one off error but I was getting the same results on Monday too. I would swim 100m and, afterwards, find that it was either recorded around the four minute mark, or as 7 seconds. 

I thought I was swimming steady, but, Strava doesn’t lie. It uses complex sensors to check just how fast I was going and if it says I swum 100m in seven seconds then it must be right. 

Move over Tarzan, I’m King of the Pool now.