After 8 weeks of no Cardio work due to a lingering chest infection, I thought it was time to stop being a wimp and get away from the weights in the Gym and go and train outside in the fresh air where the real athletes strut their stuff.
On Saturday Roxy and I ran round a quiet Country Park in the sunshine on the crackling sparkling ice where the squirrels and the birds were foraging for survival. The future stars of the Springwell Running Club were being trained by Bill Deehan, Kenny Bacon and Columb Knowles and there were a few desultory walkers braving the cold. If I am to achieve my aim of completing Ironman X sometime in 2009, the base miles had to be done and I had to start somewhere – what better place than in the mouth of Christmas!
The next morning I decided to check out the course for the inaugural Hill Climb on January the 10th. I have advertised it as a 1K challenge where riders and runners start off together every 30 seconds because I want to see who is quicker – two wheels or two feet. The proposed course is really steep and the heart rate will be at max right from the word go. Not having a quantity surveyors measuring wheel with me, I thought I would pace it out. 1,000 steps later I was at the top of the vertiginous hill panting from the effort – and that was just after walking it! There is plenty of space up the hill for spectators to come and cheer, Tour de France style as the athletes suffer on the Challenge. The Tour de France always attract the biggest crowds on the Alpine slopes because the spectators see their favourite riders struggle and suffer only centimetres away from them – and because the riders are doing about 10 miles an hour, not 25 or 30. As I surveyed the white view from the top of the forest I ruminated on some daft events I have helped to organise in the past.....
About twenty years ago we had a very unusual mile race on the Castlerock Road, in Coleraine. We had over 100 runners, all of whom were guaranteed a personal best for a mile – as it was all down-hill! I remember being in the driver’s seat of my trusty Vauxhall Cavalier when we said “Ready, Steady, Go!” and a hoard of athletes started to rapidly approach the back windscreen. There was only one problem, I had left the hand brake on and we weren’t going anywhere!
I managed to release it in the nick of time otherwise some of Northern Ireland’s best milers would have ended up in my back seat... Three minutes and 35 seconds later Davy Wilson of Annadale Striders crossed the line, one of several to beat the coveted 4 minute mark that day. Several years later I helped to organise a very strange event on the Bishops Road, with the Triangle Triathlon Club. This is the same climb that the Roe Valley Cycling Club use to host their season ending hill climb. The athletes looked a bit puzzled when I explained the format – they would run up 2.4 miles of Bishops Road, then run down with their quads being hammered by the steep descent, then bike up to the top – it certainly was a duathlon with a difference! Funnily enough no one was too keen to repeat the experience 12 months later.
Anyway I hope that the runners of Springwell, Pegasus and City of Derry etc. and the bikers of RVCC and Derry Wheelers will enjoy the novel event on January 10th. There is a £25.00 prize for quickest male and female runner and male and female biker. It takes me back to infamous hill in the Ironman in Roth in Southern Germany which I tackled a few years ago. Many people had told me about it, but nothing could prepare you for the blast that was to come. After the 3.8K canal swim and at about 70K on the bike the 2,500 athletes were confronted with this mother of a hill – it just went up – and then kept going up. There were 30,000 spectators on both sides of the hill alone and everyone of them seemed to have a bugle or a klaxon or a cow horn, (we were close to Switzerland after all) or a whistle or a drum and they wanted you to know that whilst they couldn’t necessarily play any of the instruments in tune by god they could make a racket with it! You felt really inspired and despite being knackered there was no way you were going to get off an walk, no siree, you were going to show them that Marco Pantani and Lance Armstrong were mere amateurs when it came to the particulars of hill climbing. It was out of the saddle with the heart rate going through the roof, clicking down through the gears until you made it to the top by which stage you are absolutely shattered and you have two thirds of the race still to go! I was already looking forward to the next lap to face it all again but when I eventually made it several hours later, the leaders had long gone, the 30,000 crowd had evaporated like the Chelsea crowd at Stamford Bridge when the Blues lose and I was faced with a few desultory cheers and bugle blows....
On January 10 at the Hill Climb in the Springwell Forest (three miles up the Ringsend Road, coming out of Limavady and it’s the trail that links you to the main Limavady Coleraine Road) we want lots of spectators to join in the fun. Bring a musical instrument even if you can’t play it and make the athletes feel special. All proceeds are for the Rotary Foundation Charity and my fellow Rotarians will be there making hot soup and rolls for all contestants concerned. Will I be doing it? Hey, somebody has to hold the stop watch!!
The day after my first tentative foray back into the joys of forest running I thought I would go out on the bike. The road bike didn’t seem too attractive – too much spray being thrown up by passing cars - so I plumped for my trusty Giant Terrago. Mountain biking is so much fun I am surprised that the government hasn’t taxed it yet. You get stuck into a forest (and we are blessed with at least five on our own doorstep) away from the traffic and it’s just you and nature head to head. The Cam Forest (just 2 miles from Ringsend) has long been a favourite of mine. We host the Wo/Man –v- Bike –v- Horse spectacular in it two weeks before Christmas every year (this Sunday at 12.00 noon if you are interested) and I have done a serious amount of long slow distance Ironman training in there on its rough but navigable paths and tracks. The beauty of it is you just don’t see other human beings in it. It looks so bleak from the road yet it reveals its splendours like a luminous diamond inside a lump of black coal once you make the effort. There is circuit of about 6 miles long, stay on the main path and it will bring you back to where you started. There are also lots of other interesting cul-de-sacs –there are also some suicidal descents (including one where I crashed big time just after 17 year old Hannah Jack was born. I learnt from that experience brakes don’t necessarily work if you are in mid air at the time)
There is always the sound of trickling water nearby. There are quiet nymph like glades for the wood sprites; I remember seeing a fox there years ago. I don’t know who was more startled, me, the fox or my dog. There are windmills at the top of Rigged Hill. If you stand underneath it’s as close as most of us are going to get to the - whump noise of a ceiling fan in a red lit sultry Saigon night in the 70’s Vietnam movies; there are technical passages where one is advised to take care but it doesn’t include any of the real kamikaze stuff beloved by the downhill fraternity in Ballycarton. There is one cute little stream to charge through at speed. There is a mini lake which is used as a fire break; all of these magnificent features cared for by the Department of Forestry – and all of them under utilised by a population not yet aware of the myriad of delights contained therein.
It helps when you are preparing for a mountain bike ride in an Irish winter to not be in a hurry. I put on the necessary gear – a thermal shirt, a thermal jacket, a pair of Coolmax shorts and Ironman bib tights, a pair of cycling shoes and overshoes; a helmet; a skull cap; a bandana for the throat and neck; and of course a pair of thick gloves and also I slipped into my back pocket the modern pre requisite without which no solo self respecting biking afficianado could possibly be seen without – the IPod. Young Patrick had recently de-junked my old stuff off it and he had loaded it up with his ‘old man’s’ favourites i.e. three albums from Snow Patrol; and one from Ray Lamontagne and he had stuck on his own Killers for me (too bland to be considered the world’s coolest band I fear). The bike was transported to the playground (known as the Cam Forest) on the bike rack and it was taken off with tremulous hands as I contemplated the fun that lay ahead. Once I had safely negotiated the horse steps into the Cam, Gary Lightbody was in full flow as “Run” was cascading through my skullcandies into my aural lobes and I was underway. I hadn’t ridden in about 8 weeks and I was like a kid in a sweet shop. I powered up through the gears and was up out of the saddle, hey I might as well look good for the first few hundred yards anyway! The white bright snowy stuff of the morning was still there but I had listened to the weather forecasters and had been assured that it had turned to slush. Run segued into “I love the city tonight” when something strange started to happen.
I looked down and saw my bike at a 45 degree angle, strange I thought, what’s it that shape for? The world, which I had been looking at a perfectly normal angle, seemed to be going upside down. I looked down searching for clues and found nice shiny hard ice.... Something was about to happen and it looked as if it was going to involve a World of Pain.... I felt like a surfer who had just lost his board and he was facing a wipe out. I felt like a parachutist who had forgotten to take his parachute. I felt like an equestrian expert whose horse had decided he didn’t particularly like the look of the fence in front of him..... Crash! Bang! Wallop!
I was staring at a tree, not the top of a tree, not the middle of a tree but the bottom of a tree. I felt my heart rate shoot up about an extra 70 beats a minute and I heard someone gasping for breath in staccato fashion and then realised it was me. I waited for the pain to come in waves and wasn’t disappointed. I also waited for that familiar adrenaline to be pumped through the body to come to the rescue to mask the pain. I wondered if anything didn’t hurt, knowing that would be a bad sign, I wriggled my tomb encased feet and hands to see if they moved. If I was incapable of movement, at least I hoped I would be a fit looking – if frozen corpse the next day when eventually found in the middle of nowhere. I sat up to inspect the damage and survey the wreckage. My right elbow and hip hurt like buggary but that pain was a good pain, it meant nothing was numb or broken. I then did what I normally do when confronted with peril – I laughed. I laughed at my own idiocy in refusing to believe that the white stuff on the ground may have been alright to run on but not to bike over. I had laughed earlier in the year in different situations of hazard – in the heat of Malta, miles from nowhere on a far from perfect hire bike; in the furnace of the Czech Republic during the 180K bike section of the Ironman and then the white hot heat of Rhodes when I punctured two hot and sweaty hours from home. The time I was laughing not only in the heat but in the ice and the snow fields. I thought, as I lay in a heap, Tangled Up In Blue, underneath my grey Giant Teraggo that I had been stupid – but I had largely got away with it.
I thought how attractive Tanya Young’s Spinning Session was in Aghanloo (great music, great lights with Tanya exhorting you to go faster in an atmosphere reminiscent of a night club when even I couldn’t fall off from a static spinning bike) I thought of my own torture device namely the turbo trainer in my gym at home were you saw the fruits of your labour i.e. your sweat on the floor after a 1hr. session. I thought of all of the safe alternatives to mountain biking in the wild – and I laughed my head off. I gingerly got to my feet, checked the bike to see that it was ok and remount it (hey, you fall off your horse, you get back on the horse) and pedal somewhat slowly back to the entrance gates. I felt I had brought forward my replacement hip operation with S. Simpson FRCS (orthopaedic surgeon to the Celebs and Rock stars) a few years but didn’t really want to risk falling off again and wrecking the other hip (maybe not such a bad idea after all, I could get two for the price of one). More forest adventure was out of the question so it was back on to the main road for some boring but fairly safe black tarmac for an hour. Snow Patrol alternatively soothed and energised me as my right hip began to throb. It began to burn so hot I could have fried an egg on it; it felt as though I had put a whole tub of deep heat on it; it throbbed like the vein in Rafael Benitez’s temple when Liverpool failed to score; it ached like an Irish pig exporter’s headache.
When I made it home I inspected the damage – some blood, some welts and bruises and as Squeeze once famously sung, “A Nasty Little Rash”, but thankfully my Coolmax shorts were in one piece, hey, cuts and bruises heal but replacement shorts aren’t such a good idea in the credit crunch. It looks like my chances of catching Lance in next year’s tour of Ireland in August may have receded but I got in some vital training for the Wo/Man –v- Bike -v- Horse except I felt like borrowing a horse as I was convinced four legs might be safer on ice than two wheels.
The Von Trapp Family may have been singing as they crested the hills of Austria but I was merely listening to Europe’s finest when I was confounded by the hills in the Cam. At least there was a similar happy ending for both the Von Trapps and myself – we all made it home in one piece and we lived to fight another day – as long now as I don’t have to put the Sound of Music onto my IPod....
Tuesday, 9 December 2008
Award Ceremonies
Some people think that the Oscars or the Grammies or the Q Annual Bash are the world’s most important award ceremonies. I would beg to differ. The most important award ceremonies are, of course, connected with sport!
So, last Saturday I was a guest at the British Triathlon Federation Annual Prize Giving at Loughborough in the East Midlands. I had helped them out with spots of commentary at their races during the year in England, Scotland and Wales. Last year I had to sing for my super and do MC but this year I could relax and drink in the atmosphere..... I had to also keep quiet, difficult, I know.
I have been at a few Awards doo’s over the last few decades, a highlight of which (of course!) is Limavady’s annual Bean Feast. This year it is on April the 3rd at the Drummond Hotel in Ballykelly with the guest of honour being UK’s Track Cycling Olympic Silver medallist Wendy Houvenaghal. (There are some tickets still available!)
A few years ago young Patrick Jack and I were at the BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year in Birmingham. It was the first time the event had been held outside London.
Whilst it was a good night, I shall always remember the patronising attitude of Adrian Chiles while interviewing the Cycling Super Star, Nicole Cooke, then World Champion. It was quite obvious that Chiles – and the BBC – didn’t give a monkeys’ about cycling. This year the supremely talented Ms. Cooke jump started the UK’s record Olympic medal with a superb victory in appalling conditions in the roads of Beijing. She was the catalyst for what was to follow. The fact that she followed it up with yet another victory in the World Championships in Itlay in September with another superb tactical race of controlled aggression, will of course be conveniently ignored when it comes to this year’s ceremony on December the 14th (sorry BBC, I can’t make it, I will be organising the Wo/Man-v- Bike-v- Horse competition in the Cam Forest the same week-end). Incidentally the prize in 2006 was won by a horse – or was it Princess Zara instead?! - who narrowly beat our own Darren Clarke.
This year will be won by Lewis Hamilton who beat about 5 other blokes in the Formula 1 World Championship in fairly good cars. Lewis of course had the Worlds quickest car namely a McClaren Mercedes. Chris Hoy will probably get second for his three golds (despite having no engine on his bike) and golden girl Rebecca Adlington will come third (despite having to supply her own horse power in the pool).
Meanwhile back in East Midlands my £50.00 BMI Baby flight landed at 12.00 noon. Looking at a map a few weeks previously I quickly realised that you could catch a bus from the Airport direct to either Leicester or Nottingham or Birmingham or Stoke or Coventry to watch a footie match. I plumped for Derby County (mainly because the were at home!) I hadn’t bothered to buy a ticket of course and hoped there would be a few left. I met some young blokes wearing their Rams black and white scarves and followed them off the bus when we alighted on the outskirts of the town. Derby used to play at the Baseball Ground (so called 100 years previously when they actually played the American sport inside) but now they play at a super dooper new stadium called Pride Park, it is a 33,000 seater and regularly attracts crowds of 30,000 making it the best attended stadium in the Championship. I ran over to the box office at 2 .56 p.m. and was about to purchase a ticket when this venerable gentlemen asked me if I wanted a ticket. I had been similarly lucky when outside Manchester City’s ramshackle stadium (you can tell I am a United fan!) in August 2002 when I was over to commentate for the BBC at the Commonwealth Games. I ended up getting a first class view for a tenner from a season ticket holder who wanted to go to the bar instead! Six years later this bloke wasn’t going to miss the action but I asked him why he had a spare (and he replied “When we were coming back from the Leeds game on Tuesday night, my mate Ian died of a heart attack and I have this ticket, Still, we won 2 – 1” he cheerfully replied. “Would his widow mind if I took his ticket?”. “Not at all son, you follow me”. So three minutes later I am sitting beside my new benefactor Norman in the front row beside the pitch adjacent to the goal. It had the best view in the entire stadium! My middle name is Lucky, but you knew that anyway. This got me thinking on my usual trip to to Old Trafford where the view is the same an eagle has of an unsuspecting dormouse (except when Harry Lynas got me tickets on the touch line for a match which was ironically against Derby County).
I asked Uncle Norman how long he had supported his local team. He sucked in his false teeth, leant on his walking stick and replied “Since 1939, we played Villa, then they declared War and there were no more matches that season”. I am not quite sure if Adolf Hitler knew just how bad the consequences of marching on Poland would actually be. Never mind the blitz kreig what about the effect on the Baseball ground faithful instead? I asked Norman what was the best match he had ever seen in 69 years of supporting his team.
“It were eight years ago when we beat the scum of Old Trafford 3-1” through gritted teeth, I asked him who scored, “Paulo Wauchope with a brace and Sturridge with the other”. This guy knew his stuff!
His mate beside him was equally devasted to hear of the Rams favourite supporter passing away a few weeks previously. “ I remember the day my Dad died... “He said to me unprompted. “We beat QPR away”. Ah well, behind every cloud there is a silver lining etc.
We i.e. Derby County went one up with a goal scored by an ex Notts Forest player. I am not quite sure how Kris Commons was allowed to wear the black and white of Derby having exchanged the red and white of Forest. Every Derby County fan I spoke to hated Forest with a passion. The two clubs had played each other three weeks previously and ended up one all and the Derby County fans were seething. It was all the Refs fault of course that a goal had been disallowed. During the match I was at they even had a song about the Ref asking him if he was the same Man in Black from the Forest Match in disguise. On the Sunday morning my taxi driver was an avid Forest fan and looked at me with complete disgust when I told him I had been to Pride Park the day before. It’s not quite as bad as United -v- City, or Liverpool –v- Everton but it’s not far from it.
At half time buoyed by a pint and a Balti chicken pie I sat down beside my new mates as Derby started to really hammer Sheffield’s finest. Two more goals were scored including a left foot cracker from 30 yards just in front of me. Everyone erupted deliriously. It all made for a splendid afternoon. I waved good bye to my buddies and sprinted for the bus weaving past the disconsolate Sheffield Wednesday supporters. The Rams really had devoured the Owls.
Two hours later I emerged from my hotel room in the Hilton suitably booted and suited. It was downstairs for a champagne reception – somebody had to do it! What a drag it was to bump into some of the athletes that I had met at the Corus Series, oh look there is Helen Tucker from Bridgend, recently crowned World Champion in Vancouver in August with her new hubby Marc Jenkins (Olympian in 2004), there was Will Clarke (Beijing Olympian and well known for his moves on the dance floor), we were sharing the same table. There was Alistair Brownlee who led the men’s Olympic Triathlon up to the 7K mark and he was responsible for making the watching Princess Anne very excited indeed. There was somebody who just had to drink the pink champagne and drink in the views i.e. me. These people are my heroes I thought, not the overpaid prima donnas who won’t dream of kicking a foot ball for less than a 120 K a week. These people train 30 to 40 hours a week and if they were strapped to the National grid they could power several small villages with their watts output. These people are in the pool at 6.00 a.m. (like Rebecca Adlington). They are on their bikes at 11.00a.m. (like Chris Hoy) and they are on the running track, (like Kelly Holmes) at 3.00 p.m. They live breath and dream their sport, they are also very nice people. I bumped into Chrissie Wellington. I am sorry I am completely biased here but I believe she is quite simply the World’s finest distance athlete by a mile. In 2007 she won the toughest race of all the Hawaii Ironman on her first attempt. She swam, biked and ran 146 miles and make it look like an afternoon stroll down to Tescos.
This year she had all the pressure of trying to prove it wasn’t a fluke. She did three Ironman races in the build up to Hawaii and won them all. This year on the 11th October she was leading the race on the bike when disaster struck. She punctured, her CO2 canisters didn’t work and she sat on the edge of the lava field awaiting a miracle as 10 minutes came and went – as did her rivals who passed her. Eventually one competitor took pity on her and threw a life line – and a spare canister. She fired up the CO2 and got her tire inflated and running (or least turning). She then succeeded in overtaking
her rivals one by one and ended up with a substantial lead going in to T2. Could she run a marathon in the heat and humidity though? No problem, she ran a titanic 2 hours 59 mins. to win the race by 15 mins. What a star!
Despite this stellar performance Chrissie is as down to earth as they come. We compared notes on our respective sore throats. She said she hoped to still have a voice the next morning as she was due to appear live on Radio 5. We swapped shoes, hey I have worn an Ironman champion’shoe. It was a pity it was a high heel and not a running shoe, but anyway....
Later on when she was awarded the Long Distance Athlete of the year award we brought the house down for her.
The guest of honour was Simon Lessing MBE. If Triathlon Gods were rock stars, then Simon would have been the Bryan Ferry of the triple discipline sport. He was always fairly cool, quite aloof and sometimes didn’t look interested. But boy when it was show time he was imperious usually leading from start to finish. When the race started he went on the ‘B’ of ‘Bang’. He dominated his rivals at the Olympic Distance and won 5 world championships as well as 3 Long Course titles. He didn’t like the elite drafting system and felt that as a great swimmer he was being disadvantaged when his rivals were allowed to bike together to reel him back in. So he moved up ot he Ironman distance and won Lake Placid in New York in a course record of 8 hrs. 25 mins. and qualified for Hawaii – just like Anne Paul. It was the biggest regret of Simon’s career that he didn’t do better at Kona when he finished top 10 twice but never really threatened the podium.
I remember seeing him at the Olympics in Sydney when I was perched in front of the Opera House. There were 250,000 spectators that day and Simon finished a disappointing 9th. I was in Manchester in 2002 when he finished 4th in the Commonwealth Games, but when it came to the World Championships he had few rivals. Sometimes for him it wasn’t a case of “Alright on the Night”.
He gave a very self deprecatory speech when he looked back at his career. He left South Africa because of the apartheid regime and ended up representing GB, but raced in France to earn his livelihood. He was prepared to risk an uncertain future by living off his wits not knowing where his next pay cheque was coming from to pursue his dream. If he won, he was able to eat a three course meal. If he didn’t finish in the top three, it was a bowl of pasta and camping in a tent and catching the next train back to his base in the South of France. He said he made the classic mistake which I made, when speaking in France after winning a competition. The French word for champions is very close the French word for a vegetable so there is there is the real danger of saying as I had proudly declared to our French twins in Vigneux Sur Seine, “We are the Mushrooms!”
Simon was an entrepreneur and he knew he had to speculate to accumulate. Most of our society is averse to taking risks. His attitude was “If you have got a God given talent, then use it now and follow your dreams. If it doesn’t work out you can always get back to education and pursue a career later”. The former World Champion announced his retirement earlier this year and is now setting himself up as a top class Coach and is also putting together a project for Chief Executive Officer for Companies who want to participate in Olympic Distance and Ironman races. I was able to talk to Simon afterwards and he was very generous with his time and expertise.
There was so much left unsaid after the official ceremonies completed. We all felt it would be a splendid idea to retire to the bar to see how we could plot to become better athletes, better coaches, and better event organisers for the 2009 season. ...
It all seemed to make perfect sense at the time. If only, I could remember about the final action plan that we had drawn up! Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to back to next year’s Awards Ceremonies in Loughborough to sort it all out again.
I am hoping that the next Awards Ceremony I attend will be in the Drummond in April for Limavady Sports Council. One every six months is enough. I hope you will join me then to hear Wendy talking about her Olympic experience. I am quite sure that she will prove to be a champion speaker and person as she is as an Olympian medallist.
So, last Saturday I was a guest at the British Triathlon Federation Annual Prize Giving at Loughborough in the East Midlands. I had helped them out with spots of commentary at their races during the year in England, Scotland and Wales. Last year I had to sing for my super and do MC but this year I could relax and drink in the atmosphere..... I had to also keep quiet, difficult, I know.
I have been at a few Awards doo’s over the last few decades, a highlight of which (of course!) is Limavady’s annual Bean Feast. This year it is on April the 3rd at the Drummond Hotel in Ballykelly with the guest of honour being UK’s Track Cycling Olympic Silver medallist Wendy Houvenaghal. (There are some tickets still available!)
A few years ago young Patrick Jack and I were at the BBC’s Sports Personality of the Year in Birmingham. It was the first time the event had been held outside London.
Whilst it was a good night, I shall always remember the patronising attitude of Adrian Chiles while interviewing the Cycling Super Star, Nicole Cooke, then World Champion. It was quite obvious that Chiles – and the BBC – didn’t give a monkeys’ about cycling. This year the supremely talented Ms. Cooke jump started the UK’s record Olympic medal with a superb victory in appalling conditions in the roads of Beijing. She was the catalyst for what was to follow. The fact that she followed it up with yet another victory in the World Championships in Itlay in September with another superb tactical race of controlled aggression, will of course be conveniently ignored when it comes to this year’s ceremony on December the 14th (sorry BBC, I can’t make it, I will be organising the Wo/Man-v- Bike-v- Horse competition in the Cam Forest the same week-end). Incidentally the prize in 2006 was won by a horse – or was it Princess Zara instead?! - who narrowly beat our own Darren Clarke.
This year will be won by Lewis Hamilton who beat about 5 other blokes in the Formula 1 World Championship in fairly good cars. Lewis of course had the Worlds quickest car namely a McClaren Mercedes. Chris Hoy will probably get second for his three golds (despite having no engine on his bike) and golden girl Rebecca Adlington will come third (despite having to supply her own horse power in the pool).
Meanwhile back in East Midlands my £50.00 BMI Baby flight landed at 12.00 noon. Looking at a map a few weeks previously I quickly realised that you could catch a bus from the Airport direct to either Leicester or Nottingham or Birmingham or Stoke or Coventry to watch a footie match. I plumped for Derby County (mainly because the were at home!) I hadn’t bothered to buy a ticket of course and hoped there would be a few left. I met some young blokes wearing their Rams black and white scarves and followed them off the bus when we alighted on the outskirts of the town. Derby used to play at the Baseball Ground (so called 100 years previously when they actually played the American sport inside) but now they play at a super dooper new stadium called Pride Park, it is a 33,000 seater and regularly attracts crowds of 30,000 making it the best attended stadium in the Championship. I ran over to the box office at 2 .56 p.m. and was about to purchase a ticket when this venerable gentlemen asked me if I wanted a ticket. I had been similarly lucky when outside Manchester City’s ramshackle stadium (you can tell I am a United fan!) in August 2002 when I was over to commentate for the BBC at the Commonwealth Games. I ended up getting a first class view for a tenner from a season ticket holder who wanted to go to the bar instead! Six years later this bloke wasn’t going to miss the action but I asked him why he had a spare (and he replied “When we were coming back from the Leeds game on Tuesday night, my mate Ian died of a heart attack and I have this ticket, Still, we won 2 – 1” he cheerfully replied. “Would his widow mind if I took his ticket?”. “Not at all son, you follow me”. So three minutes later I am sitting beside my new benefactor Norman in the front row beside the pitch adjacent to the goal. It had the best view in the entire stadium! My middle name is Lucky, but you knew that anyway. This got me thinking on my usual trip to to Old Trafford where the view is the same an eagle has of an unsuspecting dormouse (except when Harry Lynas got me tickets on the touch line for a match which was ironically against Derby County).
I asked Uncle Norman how long he had supported his local team. He sucked in his false teeth, leant on his walking stick and replied “Since 1939, we played Villa, then they declared War and there were no more matches that season”. I am not quite sure if Adolf Hitler knew just how bad the consequences of marching on Poland would actually be. Never mind the blitz kreig what about the effect on the Baseball ground faithful instead? I asked Norman what was the best match he had ever seen in 69 years of supporting his team.
“It were eight years ago when we beat the scum of Old Trafford 3-1” through gritted teeth, I asked him who scored, “Paulo Wauchope with a brace and Sturridge with the other”. This guy knew his stuff!
His mate beside him was equally devasted to hear of the Rams favourite supporter passing away a few weeks previously. “ I remember the day my Dad died... “He said to me unprompted. “We beat QPR away”. Ah well, behind every cloud there is a silver lining etc.
We i.e. Derby County went one up with a goal scored by an ex Notts Forest player. I am not quite sure how Kris Commons was allowed to wear the black and white of Derby having exchanged the red and white of Forest. Every Derby County fan I spoke to hated Forest with a passion. The two clubs had played each other three weeks previously and ended up one all and the Derby County fans were seething. It was all the Refs fault of course that a goal had been disallowed. During the match I was at they even had a song about the Ref asking him if he was the same Man in Black from the Forest Match in disguise. On the Sunday morning my taxi driver was an avid Forest fan and looked at me with complete disgust when I told him I had been to Pride Park the day before. It’s not quite as bad as United -v- City, or Liverpool –v- Everton but it’s not far from it.
At half time buoyed by a pint and a Balti chicken pie I sat down beside my new mates as Derby started to really hammer Sheffield’s finest. Two more goals were scored including a left foot cracker from 30 yards just in front of me. Everyone erupted deliriously. It all made for a splendid afternoon. I waved good bye to my buddies and sprinted for the bus weaving past the disconsolate Sheffield Wednesday supporters. The Rams really had devoured the Owls.
Two hours later I emerged from my hotel room in the Hilton suitably booted and suited. It was downstairs for a champagne reception – somebody had to do it! What a drag it was to bump into some of the athletes that I had met at the Corus Series, oh look there is Helen Tucker from Bridgend, recently crowned World Champion in Vancouver in August with her new hubby Marc Jenkins (Olympian in 2004), there was Will Clarke (Beijing Olympian and well known for his moves on the dance floor), we were sharing the same table. There was Alistair Brownlee who led the men’s Olympic Triathlon up to the 7K mark and he was responsible for making the watching Princess Anne very excited indeed. There was somebody who just had to drink the pink champagne and drink in the views i.e. me. These people are my heroes I thought, not the overpaid prima donnas who won’t dream of kicking a foot ball for less than a 120 K a week. These people train 30 to 40 hours a week and if they were strapped to the National grid they could power several small villages with their watts output. These people are in the pool at 6.00 a.m. (like Rebecca Adlington). They are on their bikes at 11.00a.m. (like Chris Hoy) and they are on the running track, (like Kelly Holmes) at 3.00 p.m. They live breath and dream their sport, they are also very nice people. I bumped into Chrissie Wellington. I am sorry I am completely biased here but I believe she is quite simply the World’s finest distance athlete by a mile. In 2007 she won the toughest race of all the Hawaii Ironman on her first attempt. She swam, biked and ran 146 miles and make it look like an afternoon stroll down to Tescos.
This year she had all the pressure of trying to prove it wasn’t a fluke. She did three Ironman races in the build up to Hawaii and won them all. This year on the 11th October she was leading the race on the bike when disaster struck. She punctured, her CO2 canisters didn’t work and she sat on the edge of the lava field awaiting a miracle as 10 minutes came and went – as did her rivals who passed her. Eventually one competitor took pity on her and threw a life line – and a spare canister. She fired up the CO2 and got her tire inflated and running (or least turning). She then succeeded in overtaking
her rivals one by one and ended up with a substantial lead going in to T2. Could she run a marathon in the heat and humidity though? No problem, she ran a titanic 2 hours 59 mins. to win the race by 15 mins. What a star!
Despite this stellar performance Chrissie is as down to earth as they come. We compared notes on our respective sore throats. She said she hoped to still have a voice the next morning as she was due to appear live on Radio 5. We swapped shoes, hey I have worn an Ironman champion’shoe. It was a pity it was a high heel and not a running shoe, but anyway....
Later on when she was awarded the Long Distance Athlete of the year award we brought the house down for her.
The guest of honour was Simon Lessing MBE. If Triathlon Gods were rock stars, then Simon would have been the Bryan Ferry of the triple discipline sport. He was always fairly cool, quite aloof and sometimes didn’t look interested. But boy when it was show time he was imperious usually leading from start to finish. When the race started he went on the ‘B’ of ‘Bang’. He dominated his rivals at the Olympic Distance and won 5 world championships as well as 3 Long Course titles. He didn’t like the elite drafting system and felt that as a great swimmer he was being disadvantaged when his rivals were allowed to bike together to reel him back in. So he moved up ot he Ironman distance and won Lake Placid in New York in a course record of 8 hrs. 25 mins. and qualified for Hawaii – just like Anne Paul. It was the biggest regret of Simon’s career that he didn’t do better at Kona when he finished top 10 twice but never really threatened the podium.
I remember seeing him at the Olympics in Sydney when I was perched in front of the Opera House. There were 250,000 spectators that day and Simon finished a disappointing 9th. I was in Manchester in 2002 when he finished 4th in the Commonwealth Games, but when it came to the World Championships he had few rivals. Sometimes for him it wasn’t a case of “Alright on the Night”.
He gave a very self deprecatory speech when he looked back at his career. He left South Africa because of the apartheid regime and ended up representing GB, but raced in France to earn his livelihood. He was prepared to risk an uncertain future by living off his wits not knowing where his next pay cheque was coming from to pursue his dream. If he won, he was able to eat a three course meal. If he didn’t finish in the top three, it was a bowl of pasta and camping in a tent and catching the next train back to his base in the South of France. He said he made the classic mistake which I made, when speaking in France after winning a competition. The French word for champions is very close the French word for a vegetable so there is there is the real danger of saying as I had proudly declared to our French twins in Vigneux Sur Seine, “We are the Mushrooms!”
Simon was an entrepreneur and he knew he had to speculate to accumulate. Most of our society is averse to taking risks. His attitude was “If you have got a God given talent, then use it now and follow your dreams. If it doesn’t work out you can always get back to education and pursue a career later”. The former World Champion announced his retirement earlier this year and is now setting himself up as a top class Coach and is also putting together a project for Chief Executive Officer for Companies who want to participate in Olympic Distance and Ironman races. I was able to talk to Simon afterwards and he was very generous with his time and expertise.
There was so much left unsaid after the official ceremonies completed. We all felt it would be a splendid idea to retire to the bar to see how we could plot to become better athletes, better coaches, and better event organisers for the 2009 season. ...
It all seemed to make perfect sense at the time. If only, I could remember about the final action plan that we had drawn up! Oh well, I suppose I’ll have to back to next year’s Awards Ceremonies in Loughborough to sort it all out again.
I am hoping that the next Awards Ceremony I attend will be in the Drummond in April for Limavady Sports Council. One every six months is enough. I hope you will join me then to hear Wendy talking about her Olympic experience. I am quite sure that she will prove to be a champion speaker and person as she is as an Olympian medallist.
LAGER. AGA. SAGA. GAGA.
The normal four stage progression of accepted adult ageing can be described in the above our words. But what about the bloke who looks after himself? What does he do if he is unable to train? Due to a nasty lingering chest infection I have been unable to swim, bike or run for the last 5 long weeks. It has brought it home to me just how much I enjoy training and challenging myself physically 5 or 6 times a week. I feel like an alcoholic who can’t find the booze. I feel like a drug addict who can’t get his next fix.
I have been incredibly healthy all year (apart from suspect back, which I am going to conveniently ignore). The wheels came off at the end of September, I had raced our Super Sprint Try-athlon at Benone Beach which gave me a real high. I had then launched into the Concept II Ergometer Rowing machine on the Monday night determined to beat 20 mins. for 5K (I made it with 9 secs. to spare). On the Tuesday I noticed my 100 metre swim reps in the pool fall apartalarmingly and I went out and got a good soaking on the mountain bike on the Wednesday and that was the start of the downfall.
Two courses of antibiotics and one chest x-ray later I still can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel – and if I could, it probably would be a train coming. I have fooled myself into believing that going to the gym and just pushing weights about doesn’t actually count as training because it’s not straining the cardiovascular system. I must confess that lifting weights can become incredibly addictive very quickly. I set myself (I have no idea why) the challenge of lifting and shifting 5 tonnes in a single session. I first found out that my max bench press was 80Kgs. not 85, not 82, not 81 but 80. I read that you should train at 30% of your max for lots and lots of reps. An ‘O’ Level in maths enabled me to work this out at 24 kgs. (except I then put 37 kgs on the bar but no matter). You then try to push that mother of a loaded bar into the air for 15 reps. then wait 30 secs. then do it again, then do it again, then do it again..... The 15 reps quickly became 10 as the arms began to burn. Apparently the exercise doesn’t actually do your muscles any good until you go to “failure” i.e. you can’t lift it one more time. I tried to explain to the very helpful Johnny Shirley, in the Roe Valley Leisure Gym that I just don’t “Do failure”. We always focus on not being defeated by anything but the principal behind the concept is that the muscle only learns when it has been tested and found wanting so that the next time it faces the same challenge, aided by rest, it is stronger and better prepared, so working on a lighter weight I began to remorselessly push that bar up and doing sets of ten until I had lifted 5 tonnes i.e. 5 x 1,000 kgs. I just about made the last set. OK I couldn’t actually lift a pen up off the desk the next day in the office but it was worth the feeling of satisfaction and that warm glow of accomplishment.
I have subsequently tried to become slightly more sophisticated in my lifting and varied the programme to incorporate John’s recommendations. Both Johnny and Willard are very good at creating an individual programme for you. Mine involves the seated row, ab crunches on the Swedish ball and on the rack, dumb bells from the waist to the chest and into the air, parallel dips on the bar etc. There is still so much to learn and so little time!
When I am in the gym I see my good friends, who are some of Limavady’s finest athletes doing their own stuff. There is man mountain Gully McLaughlin lifting weights the rest of us could just fantasise about. There is Colin Loughery getting obsessive about the Concept II and setting PB’s every week. There is Peter Cole banging out fast times on the running machine. It is inspiring and invigorating to see these guys in action and what can I do about it when I am still under the weather? Not very much at all.
Being unable to train does give you more time to ruminate, to reflect and to read – and to watch DVD’s. I have just finished the entire series 7 of the West Wing (best political drama out of the States ever) all 22 episodes in a week as the fictional politician Mat Santos became the first President from a minority background and at the same time I was watching the drama of the real USA elections unfolding. When a community organiser without any support from the South side of Chicago, a guy who describes himself as a “mutt”, is able to become the World’s top dog with the slogan of “Yes we Can”, it makes you reconsider what we can do as athletes. I was talking to someone during the week who did her first ever marathon – New York – and she finished in under 5 hours with little athletic background. I met Springwell’s four dashing damsels, Fran McFadden, Catherine Butcher and two girls doing their first ever marathon, Anne Bonnar and Ella Loughery and they are already talking about their next one! Whether it’s Barack Obama or these local girls it is an encouragement to us all to get out the back door and do Something Physical. Whether Change Is Going To Come according to Martin Luther King or “Yes We Can” we can all achieve extraordinary accomplishments.
Not being able to train makes one set oneself the daftest of challenges. I can tell you that my personal best for emptying a dish washer is now 4 mins. and 14 secs! OK some of the plates might have a few chips around the edges from being fired into the cupboard but hey, a PB is a PB!
Roxy my dog is looking knackered as I am walking her that much. I can’t run, but surely I can still walk? Then I remembered that I had a surgical procedure carried out on my foot and I couldn’t actually put my foot to the ground. They say trouble comes in droves, not just ones or twos! I might as well get all of my physical ailments out the way at the same time.
When I am out walking I realise what a beautiful countryside we have, whether it’s the swirling rapids and tumbling dappled browny yellow leaves in the autumnal County Park, or the strong fresh fir trees in the Cam Forest, we are surrounded by a welter of stunning vistas. I received inspiration for another athletic event when out last week in the bit of the Springwell Forest between the Ringsend Road and the Coleraine Limavady mountain road. There was a hill which just goes on and on. We do it in the 5 Forest Ride on mountain bikes and it takes me 8 mins. I have an idea for a mountain bike hill climb over the Christmas period. There will be a £50.00 first prize for first man and first woman and the riders will go off 1 min. apart. It is at least 1 kilometre of a lung bursting, leg busting, head pounding uphill sprint which will actually feel like a marathon. It goes up towards the sky with your front wheel practically lifting off the ground and when you think it’s nearly over there are a few corners left with yet another sting in the tail. Personally I can’t wait! Before that we have the legendary Wo/Man –v- Bike -v- Horse in the Cam Forest on Sunday the 15th December, a race which presages for me the start of the Christmas season. I hope, dear reader, that you are not going to train on Christmas day because like Daley Thompson – I am! I will be sneaking in an extra session hoping that my rivals aren’t.
Having a lot of time on your hands makes you read some trivial stuff. For instance I have just read that Manchester United and a few other top clubs have appointed a “Sleep Guru”. No honest, it’s not an April fool. They employ a specialist who advises players on how to sleep better (“Wayne, trust me you will sleep better if you turn the light off first”). The genius who dreamt (if you will pardon the pun) up this nice little earner is Nick Littlehales. The Club also has an expert on mattresses from California who advises the Theatre of Dreams’ finest on which type of mattress for the optimum rest. The importance of better quality and longer sleep is being increasingly recognised in sport. Studies at Stanford University in the USA recently showed swimmers and basket ball players reporting higher energy levels after their sleep patterns where improved. Nick encourages players to sleep naked in bed (healthier) and not to put the duvet over their head (unhealthy) which apparently 12% of the population do – the dust mites get into the respiratory system easier (dam! maybe that’s what happened me!). Arsenal’s former physio Gary Lewis, now in charge of the England players, has observed “The quality of sleep you have can be as important as your training in today’s world of top professional sport”.
Sharing the house with two teenagers who don’t actually believe in going to bed on the same day as they get up can prevent you from getting the requisite 8 hours. As a nation we now have 24/7 TV, the Internet, the computer thingy and the IPOD to give us various reasons to avoid rest. It makes me laugh when people tell me they don’t have the time to train, but they will find all the time in the world to catch up on the latest soaps. It has however given me a great idea, instead of training I could just practice sleeping! “Are you going to the Gym Pete?” “No, I am doing something even more beneficial – I am going to bed”. Hey, if I can’t swim, bike or run, I could perhaps give my battered system an opportunity of replenishing itself and recharging those batteries. I could be the new Sleep King!
I have just started the “Survival of the Fittest” by Dr. Mike Stroud, a guy who has been to the Arctic, the Antarctic and pushes himself beyond all recognised physical and mental limits. He ended up running 7 Marathons in 7 Continents in 7 Days. Even my good friends Robert Robb and Peter Ferris might baulk that one! He gives a fascinating insight into what can be achieved if your body is ready to push itself time and time again. I was talking to Peter during the week (311 marathons and counting) and he is training to take on both the Antarctic marathon and the 100 K Ultra Run at the bottom of the world 3 days later and thereby enter the Guinness Book of Records along with his good friend Wayne Pollock to be the first guys to finish those two races plus the Arctic Marathon in the same calendar year.
When asked about hitting the wall and the subsequent pain barriers, Peter’s answer was quite simple – “Ignore it, push through it and deal with the next pain barrier when you reach it and then keep pushing again”.
If Peter Ferris can run 10 marathons this year despite being knocked off his bike and if Barack Obama can aspire to win the highest office in the free world, then “YES WE CAN AND YES I CAN AND YES YOU CAN!
Just get out there friends and make your dreams a reality.
See you in the gym.
I will be the one under the Bench Press, thirsty for a Lager, Dreaming of an Aga, awaiting Saga, praying I never go Gaga.....
I have been incredibly healthy all year (apart from suspect back, which I am going to conveniently ignore). The wheels came off at the end of September, I had raced our Super Sprint Try-athlon at Benone Beach which gave me a real high. I had then launched into the Concept II Ergometer Rowing machine on the Monday night determined to beat 20 mins. for 5K (I made it with 9 secs. to spare). On the Tuesday I noticed my 100 metre swim reps in the pool fall apartalarmingly and I went out and got a good soaking on the mountain bike on the Wednesday and that was the start of the downfall.
Two courses of antibiotics and one chest x-ray later I still can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel – and if I could, it probably would be a train coming. I have fooled myself into believing that going to the gym and just pushing weights about doesn’t actually count as training because it’s not straining the cardiovascular system. I must confess that lifting weights can become incredibly addictive very quickly. I set myself (I have no idea why) the challenge of lifting and shifting 5 tonnes in a single session. I first found out that my max bench press was 80Kgs. not 85, not 82, not 81 but 80. I read that you should train at 30% of your max for lots and lots of reps. An ‘O’ Level in maths enabled me to work this out at 24 kgs. (except I then put 37 kgs on the bar but no matter). You then try to push that mother of a loaded bar into the air for 15 reps. then wait 30 secs. then do it again, then do it again, then do it again..... The 15 reps quickly became 10 as the arms began to burn. Apparently the exercise doesn’t actually do your muscles any good until you go to “failure” i.e. you can’t lift it one more time. I tried to explain to the very helpful Johnny Shirley, in the Roe Valley Leisure Gym that I just don’t “Do failure”. We always focus on not being defeated by anything but the principal behind the concept is that the muscle only learns when it has been tested and found wanting so that the next time it faces the same challenge, aided by rest, it is stronger and better prepared, so working on a lighter weight I began to remorselessly push that bar up and doing sets of ten until I had lifted 5 tonnes i.e. 5 x 1,000 kgs. I just about made the last set. OK I couldn’t actually lift a pen up off the desk the next day in the office but it was worth the feeling of satisfaction and that warm glow of accomplishment.
I have subsequently tried to become slightly more sophisticated in my lifting and varied the programme to incorporate John’s recommendations. Both Johnny and Willard are very good at creating an individual programme for you. Mine involves the seated row, ab crunches on the Swedish ball and on the rack, dumb bells from the waist to the chest and into the air, parallel dips on the bar etc. There is still so much to learn and so little time!
When I am in the gym I see my good friends, who are some of Limavady’s finest athletes doing their own stuff. There is man mountain Gully McLaughlin lifting weights the rest of us could just fantasise about. There is Colin Loughery getting obsessive about the Concept II and setting PB’s every week. There is Peter Cole banging out fast times on the running machine. It is inspiring and invigorating to see these guys in action and what can I do about it when I am still under the weather? Not very much at all.
Being unable to train does give you more time to ruminate, to reflect and to read – and to watch DVD’s. I have just finished the entire series 7 of the West Wing (best political drama out of the States ever) all 22 episodes in a week as the fictional politician Mat Santos became the first President from a minority background and at the same time I was watching the drama of the real USA elections unfolding. When a community organiser without any support from the South side of Chicago, a guy who describes himself as a “mutt”, is able to become the World’s top dog with the slogan of “Yes we Can”, it makes you reconsider what we can do as athletes. I was talking to someone during the week who did her first ever marathon – New York – and she finished in under 5 hours with little athletic background. I met Springwell’s four dashing damsels, Fran McFadden, Catherine Butcher and two girls doing their first ever marathon, Anne Bonnar and Ella Loughery and they are already talking about their next one! Whether it’s Barack Obama or these local girls it is an encouragement to us all to get out the back door and do Something Physical. Whether Change Is Going To Come according to Martin Luther King or “Yes We Can” we can all achieve extraordinary accomplishments.
Not being able to train makes one set oneself the daftest of challenges. I can tell you that my personal best for emptying a dish washer is now 4 mins. and 14 secs! OK some of the plates might have a few chips around the edges from being fired into the cupboard but hey, a PB is a PB!
Roxy my dog is looking knackered as I am walking her that much. I can’t run, but surely I can still walk? Then I remembered that I had a surgical procedure carried out on my foot and I couldn’t actually put my foot to the ground. They say trouble comes in droves, not just ones or twos! I might as well get all of my physical ailments out the way at the same time.
When I am out walking I realise what a beautiful countryside we have, whether it’s the swirling rapids and tumbling dappled browny yellow leaves in the autumnal County Park, or the strong fresh fir trees in the Cam Forest, we are surrounded by a welter of stunning vistas. I received inspiration for another athletic event when out last week in the bit of the Springwell Forest between the Ringsend Road and the Coleraine Limavady mountain road. There was a hill which just goes on and on. We do it in the 5 Forest Ride on mountain bikes and it takes me 8 mins. I have an idea for a mountain bike hill climb over the Christmas period. There will be a £50.00 first prize for first man and first woman and the riders will go off 1 min. apart. It is at least 1 kilometre of a lung bursting, leg busting, head pounding uphill sprint which will actually feel like a marathon. It goes up towards the sky with your front wheel practically lifting off the ground and when you think it’s nearly over there are a few corners left with yet another sting in the tail. Personally I can’t wait! Before that we have the legendary Wo/Man –v- Bike -v- Horse in the Cam Forest on Sunday the 15th December, a race which presages for me the start of the Christmas season. I hope, dear reader, that you are not going to train on Christmas day because like Daley Thompson – I am! I will be sneaking in an extra session hoping that my rivals aren’t.
Having a lot of time on your hands makes you read some trivial stuff. For instance I have just read that Manchester United and a few other top clubs have appointed a “Sleep Guru”. No honest, it’s not an April fool. They employ a specialist who advises players on how to sleep better (“Wayne, trust me you will sleep better if you turn the light off first”). The genius who dreamt (if you will pardon the pun) up this nice little earner is Nick Littlehales. The Club also has an expert on mattresses from California who advises the Theatre of Dreams’ finest on which type of mattress for the optimum rest. The importance of better quality and longer sleep is being increasingly recognised in sport. Studies at Stanford University in the USA recently showed swimmers and basket ball players reporting higher energy levels after their sleep patterns where improved. Nick encourages players to sleep naked in bed (healthier) and not to put the duvet over their head (unhealthy) which apparently 12% of the population do – the dust mites get into the respiratory system easier (dam! maybe that’s what happened me!). Arsenal’s former physio Gary Lewis, now in charge of the England players, has observed “The quality of sleep you have can be as important as your training in today’s world of top professional sport”.
Sharing the house with two teenagers who don’t actually believe in going to bed on the same day as they get up can prevent you from getting the requisite 8 hours. As a nation we now have 24/7 TV, the Internet, the computer thingy and the IPOD to give us various reasons to avoid rest. It makes me laugh when people tell me they don’t have the time to train, but they will find all the time in the world to catch up on the latest soaps. It has however given me a great idea, instead of training I could just practice sleeping! “Are you going to the Gym Pete?” “No, I am doing something even more beneficial – I am going to bed”. Hey, if I can’t swim, bike or run, I could perhaps give my battered system an opportunity of replenishing itself and recharging those batteries. I could be the new Sleep King!
I have just started the “Survival of the Fittest” by Dr. Mike Stroud, a guy who has been to the Arctic, the Antarctic and pushes himself beyond all recognised physical and mental limits. He ended up running 7 Marathons in 7 Continents in 7 Days. Even my good friends Robert Robb and Peter Ferris might baulk that one! He gives a fascinating insight into what can be achieved if your body is ready to push itself time and time again. I was talking to Peter during the week (311 marathons and counting) and he is training to take on both the Antarctic marathon and the 100 K Ultra Run at the bottom of the world 3 days later and thereby enter the Guinness Book of Records along with his good friend Wayne Pollock to be the first guys to finish those two races plus the Arctic Marathon in the same calendar year.
When asked about hitting the wall and the subsequent pain barriers, Peter’s answer was quite simple – “Ignore it, push through it and deal with the next pain barrier when you reach it and then keep pushing again”.
If Peter Ferris can run 10 marathons this year despite being knocked off his bike and if Barack Obama can aspire to win the highest office in the free world, then “YES WE CAN AND YES I CAN AND YES YOU CAN!
Just get out there friends and make your dreams a reality.
See you in the gym.
I will be the one under the Bench Press, thirsty for a Lager, Dreaming of an Aga, awaiting Saga, praying I never go Gaga.....
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