Tag Archives: scotland

Iain

All I want for Xmas is sunscreen (Iain)

He’s making a list,

And checking it twice,

He looks again!

He can’t believe the price!

Santa Claus is buying prezzies for triathletes!

Ho, ho, ho! Merry Xmas!

It’s the time of year my mum asks what I’d like for Xmas and I say “How about this saddle for my bike?” I show her the saddle and she goes “HOW MUCH!!!”

In fairness, I said the same when she said she’d like Jo Malone perfume.

It’s easy to get a present for Andrew. I just get something I’d like myself. That way – if he doesn’t like it,  I keep it!

This year, I’ve found the perfect present for Celtman: Sunscreen.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lifesystems-Active-Protection-Cream-200ml-x/dp/B0050DD74S/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1481712678&sr=8-1&keywords=jellyfish+repellent

You may wonder why he needs sunscreen for a race famed for its lack of sun. This sunscreen is special. Not only does it prevent sun burn it also repels jelly fish! Celtman is famed for its jelly fish so this would be the perfect gift except for one thing…

Celtman is an extreme triathlon! It’s not a cuddly triathlon. It’s not going to give Andrew a hug and tell him everything’s going to be okay! He’s supposed to suffer.

Giving him sunscreen would be against the spirit of the event.

So, I’ve ordered a different sunscreen. One which will make his swim extreme. I don’t want to spoil his Christmas surprise by saying which one it is but I will reveal one thing – it was really difficult to find one containing a jellyfish aphrodisiac!

Iain

Top 5 things people have thrown at me when running/biking (Iain)

It’s not every day a yogurt lands on my head.

In November 1995 I was walking along a street in Edinburgh, minding my own business whilst listening to a Sony mini-disc. That was state of the art back then. But, before I could say “Is that a Muller lite falling from the sky?”, a Muller lite had fallen from the sky and landed on my head leaving its trail of too-sweet-tasting-creamy-awfulness across my forehead. I looked upwards.

A man was laughing from a third floor window. He had a spoon. I guess he was the yogurt chucker. As much as I was shocked to have been “Muller’d” I was impressed with his aim. I’m sure I’d miss If I tried to throw an non-aerodynamic yoghurt pot at someone from a height of 30 ft.

I never found out why he threw it but, this week, I was reminded of him when I read that someone was throwing things at cyclists who use a local bike path. Its awful that they’re doing that. I hope the police catch them but it does let me list the top 5 things that have been thrown at me when biking/running.

5 -Verbal Abuse/Comedy

Sometimes it’s not physical objects thrown from vehicles but verbal ones. Whilst biking this week I passed two school girls eating chips. One shouted “OH MY GOD! I’m going to marry you!” and then ate a chip.

Which was a nice offer but I’d rather she’d proposed in a more romantic manner than over a poke of chips!

Its also amazing how many times cars (but mainly van) drivers wind down their windows to shout”Run Forrest! Run!”

4 – Snowballs

One Xmas, whilst jogging, in the east end of Glasgow I passed a group of youngsters. My Spidey sense kicked in – I instinctively knew they were going to pelt me with snowballs as soon as I was far enough away to hit but not close enough to run after them!

I counted to three in my head and braced myself for the inevitable pelting. I got pelted. it was sore!

3 – Waterpistol

Whilst jogging near Kelvingrove a van pulled up next to me. The passenger opened his window and shot me with a water pistol. The van drove off. I was too shocked to do anything! To this day I can still hear the passengers shout “HAHA!”

2 – Yoghurt

Surprising this was not the most unusual thing to hit me.

Number 1 is …..

1 – A fish and chip supper. 

Yes. Honest! I once was assaulted with a fish and chip supper. It was whilst jogging in the meadows in Edinburgh. I stopped at a t-junction. As a car turned and passed me a fish and chip supper was thrown out. It hit me in the stomach.

Is it a crime to throw a fish and chip supper at a stranger? Yes. Probably. But the biggest crime is to throw a fish and chips supper away without eating all the chips? This is Scotland. You don’t throw away chips!

Andrew

Celtman 2017 (Andrew)

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I’d entered the ballot for Norseman and Celtman but only wanted one to succeed. I want to do Norseman again, but not next year. It’s too soon. But, because it’s a ballot, and I won’t get to choose if I’m lucky enough to enter it again, I entered anyway, to build up my chances in future years. Luckily, I didn’t get in.

However, Celtman was the race I wanted to enter. I’d seen the very first race on BBC Scotland’s The Adventure Show and I’ve always wanted to do it. After Norseman I didn’t fancy another race abroad so Celtman was my first choice. I just had to hope I’d be lucky in the ballot.

I got the email mid-afternoon. I read it. It said “You are in the race!.” and I thought: “Why has it got a full stop after the exclamation mark?”. Then it said “Please read the whole of this message very carefully”. And I thought: “I have and, really, why has it got a full stop after the exclamation mark?”.

It’s strange the things you think of when dream come true. Neil Armstrong probably thought: “Have I switched the oven off?” when he landed on the moon.

It takes a second or two for the reality to hit. I was in.

Ironically, and just like last year when I heard about Norseman, I’m injured at the moment. A twinge. A dodgy right hip. A few weeks of rest to take care of it. This week I started running and cycling again. A run through some trails north of Aviemore and 10 miles on the turbo, which have now become the first run and the first ride towards Celtman 2017!

Iain

Dumgoyne run (Iain)

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What dick would park his car and block a remembrance parade?

The brass band couldn’t get past it. The people watching and remembering couldn’t stand next to the graves.

Seriously, who would do that?

It definitely wasn’t me!

<I look round, wait till everyone leaves, get in car then drive off>

In my defence – the ‘no parking’ sign was only put up after I’d parked. I’d left my car while I ran up a local hill. When I came back, not only was my car in the way, but I was also the only one covered in mud while wearing a bright yellow fluorescent running jacket. I assume everyone guessed the car was mine…

It was a good run but I tweaked my hamstring on the way down. I’ve taken it easy this week and stuck to yoga, walking and not blocking solemn ceremonies.

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Andrew

OMG! OMG! OMG!

Read the next entry from Iain. Look at the pictures. Nice bike. Nice set-up. It looks like a nice place to train but… wait a minute.. what’s wrong with that picture…

Just like meeting Donald Trump the only thought in my head right now is…

DON’T TOUCH THE RUG!!!!!!

Where’s the wipe clean mat? What’s been soaking into that rug? Euggghhh! Gross! Unclean! Burn it! Get rid of it before it soaks into the floor and causes sweat damp (the word kind of damp, just like normal damp but leaves yellow patches) throughout the entire house!

Oh, wait a minute.

It’s okay.

Panic over.

Iain doesn’t sweat when he trains. He doesn’t go faster than 5mph. At least he doesn’t when he’s out on the road, so I can’t imagine he’s any better on the turbo…

Caledonian Etape 2017 – bring it on! Challenge me, indeed!

Iain

A short history of my bikes – part 6 (Iain)

I ask the man at the local bike shop. “I’d like to buy a bike to commute to work?”

“What type of bike are you looking for?”

“One which is so boring that nobody would ever want to steal it!”

“I have just the bike for you…”

Bike 7 was a Ridgeback velocity. There was nothing interesting about it at all until it was stolen from outside my work.

I thought the bike was safe – it was boring, it was parked in front of a security camera and it was locked.

I don’t know who stole the bike or how they got through the lock because when security reviewed the camera footage they could only see cobwebs and spiders. It seems when they bought the camera they didn’t realise just how appealing the casing covering it would be to eight legged creatures!

I thought I’d never see the bike again but about six months later I was jogging past a railway station when I spotted it chained to a bike rack.

It couldn’t be my bike. Could it?

I checked and it looked the same. It had the same mud guards, the same mark across the frame that mine had and it had mountain bike pedals. The same as I’d put on.

It had to be mine!

I called the police and asked them what to do. They sent two officers who waited at the bike for the thief to return.

A few hours later I got a call asking me to come back to the bike. When I got there they were standing with a man who looked similar to me. That man said the bike was his.

The police checked his story and it turned out he

  1. Worked in a university. Just as I do.
  2. Bought the bike on the cycle scheme.  Just like I had.
  3. Went to the same bike shop as I had.
  4. Added the same mud guards as I had.
  5. Added the same mountain bike pedals as I had.
  6. Had the same mark across the frame as it was a design flaw in the bike.
  7. But unlike me he had a serial number for the bike so the bike shop could confirm it was his.

I never saw my bike again. The most boring of bikes had the most interesting of endings!

Iain

A short history of my bikes – part 3 (Iain)

I’m at the start line of my first ever bike sportive. I look at the other riders. They’re all using road bikes. I’m on Bike 3 – a mountain bike. Oh dear – I’m the only one using a mountain bike.

It gets worse. Everyone else is wearing skin tight lycra. I have my winter jacket (as it’s cold and wet) and a pair of baggy shorts. Everyone else has clipped-in bike shoes. I’m wearing trainers.

I’m the only person using a backpack. It contains a sandwich, a 2 litre bottle of water and a map in case I get lost. It’s quite heavy.

I turn to my friend Malcolm, who’s also doing race. “I’ll be fine,” I say, “all bikes are the same!” Andrew is also here but he’s not biking. He’s acting as support in a van.

The race starts. All the other bikes pass including Malcolm. I realise all bikes are not the same. A road bike goes significantly faster than a mountain bike.

After 35 miles I reach the big climb on the route called “Bealach Na Ba.” It’s one of the few roads in Scotland that’s similar to mountain passes in the Alps, with very tight hairpin bends that switch back and forth rising from sea level to 626 metres.

I’ve never biked more than 20 miles before and I’d certainly never gone up a hill like this. Thankfully the mountain bike gears mean I overtake some people on the hill but, from the halfway point, I struggle to turn my pedals. I get off and push.

At the top I discover a film crew waiting for me. They’re filming for BBC Two Scotland’s The Adventure Show. The reporter approaches me:

– I can’t believe you’re using a mountain bike!

– It’s my only bike

I take out my water bottle to have a swig.

– You carried that all the way up the mountain?

– Yes. I thought I’d get thirsty.

– You do know the organisers supply water and food at regular stops?

I thought I had to supply everything myself! D’OH!!

The descent of the other side is great. Six miles of downhill with treacherous corners. At one corner an ambulance is tending to a rider. I think to myself how glad I am that it’s not me.

At the bottom of the hill I reach Andrew. I decide to quit the race. There’s 40 miles to go but I’m done in! I’ve achieved my race by cycling further and higher than ever before but there is no chance I’ll complete the race before the cut-off time.

We head to the finish to wait for Malcolm…and we wait…and we wait…and we….

As it gets dark there’s no sign of Malcolm. I approach the race organisers and ask if they have seen him. They go to check their list of riders. When they come back they have bad news – Malcolm was the man I passed on the mountain who was getting tended to by the ambulance.

The news gets worse. He’s been taken to hospital.The news gets even worse! The hospital isn’t in Inverness, which is close by and on our way home but Broadfoot on the Isle of Skye which is miles away and nowhere near our route home.

We head to Skye to collect him. He’s broken his collarbone after his brakes failed on the corner. The bad news is he’ll be off work for six weeks. The good news is that it coincides with the Edinburgh fringe. He can spend six weeks partying! And he can use his other arm to drink pints!

Iain

A short history of my bikes – part 2 (Iain)

Identical twins — perhaps as many as one in five according to the unreliable internet article I read — claim to share a special psychic connection.

Do Andrew and I share a psychic bond? No – the only time I’ve felt pain the same time as Andrew, is when we’ve accidentally crashed into each other.

The first time I noticed this lack of a special bond was in Secondary School. We both had an after school job as Paper Boys. I used Bike 2 for my round. It was a mountain bike.

We’d hang the bag of newspapers from the handlebars of our bikes. The more papers we had to deliver the harder it was to balance the bags on the bar. Monday was the worst day as we had all the large Sunday papers to deliver as well as Monday’s.

From my paper boy perspective – there should be  a special place in hell reserved for anyone who asked me to deliver The Sunday Times. It was massive and caused me problems every week!

One of my deliveries was to my primary school P.E. teacher. She was a horrible woman. In a 30 minute classes she would let the girls play for 20 minutes whilst making the boys wait against a wall. She would then let the boys on for a few minutes before stopping the class. We got virtually no exercise.

She hated the Daily Record so I made sure that whenever her first choice of paper wasn’t there that’s what she would get instead.

Unfortunately during one of Andrew’s rounds his bag caught in his wheel throwing him off the bike. He ended up lying on the street, blood everywhere.

At the moment I did feel something. It was a pang…of hunger. It was late and I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. Andrew went to hospital and I went home for my dinner.

 

 

Iain

A short history of my bikes – part 1 (Iain)

Some people give names to their bikes. Why? If I was going to name an inanimate object then I’d rather name something that talks to me, like my telly.

  • What are you doing tonight?
  • I’ll chill with Bill.
  • Who’s Bill?
  • Bill the telly. He’s cool. He’s got Sky Sports.

If you’re giving your bike a woman’s name just so you can say “Tonight, I’ll be riding Jill hard” then you are a nob!

If that’s the case you might as well name your oven after a woman so you can say when cooking chicken “Tonight. I’ll be putting my cock in Stephanie!”

So, I don’t name my bikes. I refer to them boringly as Bike 1, Bike 2, Bike 3 etc

Once upon a bike in a far away land there was…

Bike 1 – my first love. It was a racer (which is what I called a road bike when I was at school). We were inseparable until we quite literally separated.  It snapped in two! Which was annoying as I was riding it at the time.

That sounds very dramatic but I was biking uphill and travelling so slowly that I was able to stop and get off.

I sold the bike to a school friend. His dad owned a garage so was able to weld it back together.

My friend lived at the top of a big hill. He took the bike out and rode down the hill. The bike snapped and he hit a car. He ended up in hospital with a broken leg. In my defence, he did know what he was buying…

And then there was Bike 2….

To be continued.

Andrew, Race Report

Trossachs 10K (Andrew)

Processed with Snapseed.
Processed with Snapseed.

Every race needs a starter. If you don’t have a starter then you don’t have a race, you just have a lot people in lyrca standing politely and looking at each other to see if anyone else is going to move first. That’s not a race, that’s a queue.

You need a starter. Someone to fire the pistol, sound the horn, drop the flag, or fire a smoke cannon and let off a hundred fireworks (Long Course Weekend, I’m looking at you and your extravagant start!).

The Trossachs 10K however did things a litle different. It was started by a local chef from the Forth Inn.

“Good luck,” he said, dressed in chef’s whites and still wearing his apron like he’d just wandered out of his kitchen, which he had, because the kitchen was only 20 metres from the start line.

“Why is the chef starting the race?” I asked Iain.

We couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t mention a running club, so we assume he wasn’t one of the organisers, he didn’t mention a charity, so he wasn’t one of the beneficiaries, and he didn’t plug his restaurant, so he wasn’t even looking for publicity.

We can only assume that there was a misunderstanding. Someone must have said they needed a starter and someone else thought they’d best get a chef because, if there’s one thing chefs know, then it’s starters…

It’s apt that the race was started by a chef as the only reason we were racing the Trossachs 10K was that there was a cracking butchers in town and we fancied a run then lunch from the butchers (sausage roll and a macaroni pie for me, delicious).

The race itself is run through the Queen Elizabeth forest and is mostly on trail paths. It’s a great route with some ups and downs through the forest. It was raining but not too heavily to make it uncomfortable to be out running.

I ran round with Iain, we weren’t competing against each other or looking for a time, but, at the end, I felt comfortable and sprinted the final few hundred metres. Sadly, the chef wasn’t at the finish, but, you know, no one finishes with a starter.

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