Something Amazing

On the bike today.

Gregathon Update. Seems he leapt at the opportunity to skip the open water swimming yesterday and went to Ponds Forge instead. Sensible chap.

L says she’d like to do something amazing like that. Of course she’s already done amazing things like her 500 mile challenge, 50 parkruns, the logistically undertaking that was the Heb 3 etc etc. Then there’s the fact my 2016 diary has a big electronic post-it note slapped across it saying '10 half marathons', '10 sportives' and in much smaller type at the bottom '10 open water swims'. I’m hoping she might forget about the last bit lest she entice me to do them all with her.

(Friday 12^th February)

Spicing Things Up

My diary this week

Monday – nothing

Tuesday - nothing

Wednesday - nothing

Thursday – squash (possibly)

Friday - nothing

Oh, I’m so boring. L agrees that she’s never seen so many ‘nothings’ in my diary. Ever.

I attempt to spice up things up by pencilling in a trip to Sheffield for a swim at Ponds Forge on Tuesday. So I reschedule my week, bringing forward biking to work to today from tomorrow, to save my legs for Ponds Forge.

Then an overnight temperature of minus 1 makes me change my plans back again. I can’t afford to come off the bike on anything icy and pick up another injury. I put both swim and gym kit in the car to give me options for later.

Traffic was hell.

I go to the gym after work where I do 10k on the bike, 1k on the rowing machine and some weights. Then I head home to chuck some balls. L's out partying (again) in Derby so we can have the door open to our hearts’ content.

(Monday 20^th January)

More Manageable

It’s cold this morning but I’m on the bike.

At work they have dug everything off a backup tape, so at least now we have something to do. We are now using a standard PC to serve 20 odd staff members and it's quicker than the old server was... which says everything about the state of the old server.

After work we head up to Sheffield for a swim. I believe the distance I have to swim in my half ironman is the equivalent of 76 lengths of the local pool here at John Carroll. Gulp. At Ponds Forge it’s only 38. Much more manageable, at least that’s the theory.

It would have been easier had I not cycled today but at least I avoid getting cramp, which plagued me for most of the last Sheffield session we did because I’d cycled a few hours earlier.

It generally goes well and afterwards we pop round to Daughter’s for a coffee.

(Tuesday 19^th November)

Summit Meeting

I decide to take the bike for a spin to work today but end up spinning more than I intended and going nowhere fast. I stop and realise that both my pedals are pointing in the same direction. Not good.

In fact I can spin the right pedal crank 360 degrees and nothing happens. Luckily I’ve only gone about half a mile and can just about scoot the bike home on one pedal. Then I hop in the car instead. Yet again everything seems to be going against my training plan.

In the evening we head up to Sheffield. Daughter has summoned us to a summit meeting to discuss the pros and cons of her continuing her studies with a master’s degree. The great debate takes place in her local Wetherspoons, The Sheaf Island, because it does food until 11pm.

We need to eat late because going up to Sheffield seemed too good an opportunity to miss as regards getting in a few lengths of the 50m pool at Ponds Forge. So L and I do that first.

I swim badly, very badly. Just as I do in open water, so in that respect it was good practice. I was actually practicing the strokes I figure I need in open water. Front crawl while looking forwards and a bit of breaststroke as backup, for when that fails. Then I re-injure knee getting out.

The Sheaf Island seems to have adopted a solution to the fact that all Wetherspoons meals look the same wherever you are in the country by serving everything in the dark. That’s if you can even read the menu in the gloom. Both of us old codgers, L and I, struggle.

 

(Tuesday 15^th October)

High Security

I always diligently collect Sainsbury’s Active Kids vouchers and then hand them over to our local Primary School. Today I try but couldn't get anywhere near the place. The existing high security fences have now been joined by high security electronic gates controlled by keypad access. So I have to abort, I’ll try again tomorrow. In my day they used to do that sort of thing to keep the kids in, these days it’s to keep undesirables baring vouchers out.

I'm back on the bike today and I risk the freshly stone-chipped road through Borrowash. As long as you ride two foot away from the kerb, where’s there’s a scale model of something akin to the scree slope at the top of Snowdon’s Watkin Path, its ok. Some drivers don’t seem too happy with that but that’s their problem. I pay my ‘road tax’.

L points out a book called ‘Sex, Lies & Triathlon’. What a great title.

 

A couple of quotes

“Basically, a good hard workout is like the exact opposite of casual sex: You always dread it beforehand, but afterwards you’re always really glad you did it.”

“Competing in the Ironman is hardly the kind of windfall one normally associates with winning a lottery. It’s like getting a letter in the mail that says, in giant 24-point type, ‘CONGRATULATIONS! YOU MAY HAVE ALREADY WON 12 HOURS OF EXCRUCIATING MISERY AND PAIN!!’”

Sounds great, it’s on the Christmas list.

Talking of the ‘T’ word, swim training tonight. We again head up to Sheffield’s Olympic pool at Ponds Forge and I do the required 16 lengths e.g. one mile. L has to outdo me of course and does a full hour but then she does have double the distance to do next week.

(Tuesday 4^th June)

A Drunken Suggestion

I get home from work on my bike and lo and behold who comes through the door behind me on theirs but L. Blimey.

After a short session on the park with the dogs, which also allows the M1 traffic to disperse a touch, we head up to Sheffield for a serious swim session in the Olympic pool at Ponds Forge. L seems surprised that this is actually happening and that my suggestion to do this wasn’t a drunken one.

Once there I embark on my mission of 32 lengths = 1 mile. Which lands me in all sorts of breathing trouble and people trouble. I sincerely hope that Lake Windermere isn't as congested as this for the Great North Swim next month.

Then we head to Daughter’s for tea, where she serves us lasagne with all the trimmings, probably using up all of her weekly food budget in one go. Oops.

(Thursday 16^th May)