Very unexciting times really; there’s nothing like doing press-ups every five minutes to kill an evening. I managed the 5,000 target by midday yesterday (Saturday) and decided to carry on at which point I was informed that I was mad and needed to get a life. Having done this challenge, I figured it was probably inevitable that at some point I’d want to see if I could do 6,000 in a week and if you’re going to do that, starting at 5,000 probably makes it easier. So I did. It may have been a bit of a sprint finish towards the end (300 in the last half hour) when rowing took up all morning but I made it. Continue reading
84 hours into the madness and I’m still alive albeit with slight aches and very unexciting evenings. The biggest problem has been rowing training. A 2k test on Monday and weights yesterday left little time or energy. Or at least that’s my excuse.
Three and a half days in and 3120/5000 down. I think that means I’m ahead but ignores the fact most of Friday evening will involve sitting on the M4. And the weekend will undoubtedly include multiple hours sitting on a river.
Having finished last year’s challenge I went to the source of the
craziness inspiration to see if there was an update of any kind (who doesn’t love being congratulated?). When the title appeared as #Challenge2015 a small part of me wanted to shutdown the computer and pretend it had never been written. While I’m glad I’d done the last one, I was looking forward to having my evenings back. If there was a new one to take up now I’d have a tough time convincing myself not to do it. Continue reading
… is quite a few. They’d take a while. Possibly a whole year. If you were so inclined you might build up to them gently, perhaps doing one on Janurary 1st, then two on January 2nd etc. They’d seem so easy, taking less time than it takes to boil the kettle. By March you’d be doing 90 in a day. Still not much of an issue. Do three sets of thirty and you can get one done while the kettle’s boiling, one while the frozen bolognese is defrosting and another while the water is running to wash up. Continue reading
It appears that this tradition (if three posts can be considered a tradition) is destined to be a biennial one; two years in a row is apparently too much for me. I do seem to remember writing one last year but it appears to be lost in the backlog of drafts I’m getting so good at ignoring.
Bundling these the two years together will be interesting; I’m not sure any two consecutive years of my life have been so different. Continue reading
I’ve been here for two weeks. How did that happen? There is very little in my life that hasn’t changed in those two weeks and yet I’m still left feeling like it’s been two days at most. Continue reading
After nearly a year of aimlessness, my life is about to regain some direction. I have hopes this will bring all sorts of new wonders. Maybe I’ll post more than once every four months. Maybe I’ll sleep at a reasonable hour every night. Maybe these two contradict each other and I will fail on both counts trying to achieve the other.
- Tomorrow I am visiting a rowing club with the aim of getting back to regular training as soon as possible.
- I have a feeling it’s going to be a shock to the system. I’ve not trained at all (don’t even mention the 500 miles) recently and my hands haven’t held a blade handle for many months.
- In roughly 60 hours I will be arriving at a new job doing something I hope I can both do and enjoy.
- I can’t helping feeling they’ve made a mistake and will turn me away at the door, “Oh sorry, there’s been a bit of a mix up. You’re not the person we wanted to hire”.
- In less than a week I move into my own flat.
- Over a farm house in the middle of nowhere. I’ve lived in the middle of (a different) nowhere since I can remember and this still manages to look remote. Think single track roads and no other houses in sight. Still, it’s going to be mine, even if it is in a rented kind of way.
I don’t think I can pretend not to be an adult for much longer.
It’s a common enough idea. If you need to be somewhere by a specific time, and being late isn’t an option, you throw in more time than you should need so that if something goes wrong you can deal with it. All well and good (in an ‘accepting your own inevitable failure’ type way) so far.
What happens though when you don’t fail? When things go right and your journey takes exactly as long as the internet told you it would?
This is a date that seems to be the cause of much confusion.
Meteorologically, it is counted as the beginning of March (with March, April and May making up Spring). Astronomically, spring starts on the vernal equinox – the point half way(ish*) between the summer and winter solstices (a date that is getting earlier as time goes on). In other places, it can begin on the 1st (Ireland) or 2nd (USA – according to a groundhog) of February. ‘President’s Day’ is also sometimes counted making spring start on the Tuesday after the third Monday in February – this year that was the 19th.
Some define the seasons by the general weather. Winter is when it’s cold and miserable, Summer is when it isn’t. Spring and Autumn then just have to try and get noticed where they can by squeezing into the gaps and giving us snow drops and crunchy leaves. This leaves two problems. Firstly, and I’m looking at you 2012, what if it’s always cold and miserable? And secondly, by the very nature of weather there is no pivotal moment, no great switch to be turned to warm and then to hot as we move through the calendar. This doesn’t help the first day of spring question.
What we need is a clear cut yes/no “is it spring yet?” decider. I have discovered one. One that should save any confusion and with no inconveniences at all. From here on in, I shall be declaring the start of Spring on the day that I can return from a ride with full feeling in my feet. The day that numbness recedes is the day that it is suitably springlike. Summer is officially here when I no longer need a second pair of socks. I am slightly worried that we’ll never get out of winter at this rate.
In case you’d got the wrong idea from the title, this is not a book review. I enjoy writing book reviews as much as I enjoy reading them although I will go as far as to say if you’re at all interested in either the life of an author or in running, give it a try.
So what is this instead? This is an account of my own descent into insanity. I’m not a fan of running. Continue reading