Day 4 of London to Brighton training:
Having spent the last 48 hours since my re-acquaintance with the ancient Japanese art of being hurt in pyjamas, I've not really been able to do much by way of exercising - or indeed moving - and the clo...sest I came to a work-out yesterday was shirking my small mouse for the full size one (although not, if I'm honest, the one with the ball, just the little shiny-light one - but hey, it's not called the speed of light for nothing and perhaps some of it will rub off?).
However, recognising that small burst of exercise, punctuated by days of immobility, moaning in pain and making the sort of noises I would normally associate with a tree in danger of falling down whenever I tried to get up from the sofa is not going to get me to Brighton (or even to the start line), I did some abdominal exercises with my new gadget (more about that another time), but realised that I really needed to walk.
Having for once organised myself enough to eat early, I bit the bullet, pulled on a hoodie and a hi-viz bib because I neither wanted to get run over or mistaken for a 'yoof', primed Runkeeper and my impulse-buy wristband, fired up the iplod and off I went.
Now, my choice of clothing was based on the fact that I'd been told it was cold out but, as far as I could see, it was dry and therefore I decided it wasn't going to rain.
This may have been optimistic.
The aim was to push the speed a little more this time, rather than go for distance, which highlights that one simply cannot power-walk to classical adagios or, for that matter, to episodes of the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Skipping forward (on the iplod, not me. I haven't skipped since Country Dancing in Mrs Housley's class in Primary School) I found something with a bit of a beat and off I went.
The training guide for the Walk says the route is hilly and you should practice on hills if possible. I'm fortunate enough to live somewhere that is quite hilly, in a staggering-back-from-the-station-with-shopping rather than a call-me-a-sherpa-pass-the-bobble-hat sort of way and a good beat makes hills seem much flatter and more forgiving.
Incidentally, this is a lie perpetuated by the Music companies.
About half-way down the first hill, my left knee and thigh finally began to feel like the Alligator that had been gripping it was getting bored and letting go, although I was concerned he was merely aiming higher and would soon have a crack at the chest and I was moving more easily. Please understand - this is not a claim to gazelle-like grace, just less like a shopping trolley with three wheels.
This was the point I began to feel good.
This was also the point that it began raining.
At first, just a fine mist. 'No problem' I told myself, it's nice. Refreshing.
Perhaps this was my mistake. Had I cursed it and huddled somewhere, the Rain-G*ds may have settled. But oh no, not me. I have to be all stoic and stiff-upper-lipped (incidentally the only part of my that wasn't stiff after Judo). As a consequence, I could hear them say "Oh right, so that's the way you want it".
And it started to rain. Really rain. Rain like it meant it. And not content with raining ON me, it decided to rain AT me, so they conjured up a wind that blew it straight in my face. This was clever, as even when I changed direction, it still managed to be right in my face.
Now music hath charms to sooth the savage breast, but it doesn't do much for a rain-sodden asthmatic one. So the last mile of my walk was spent trying to wedge my head between my shoulder-blades, to desperately keep my phone and iPlod dry and wondering why, oh why, did I not go to the gym and run on one of those hamster-track thingies?
The ones just a few feet from the cappuccino bar.
So, the result is a somewhat abbreviated walk, at a pace that was, I have no doubt, restricted by the fact that I was wetter than Cod's belly-button and more miserable than an MP whose expenses claim is being checked.
Do you have to stretch more when you're in danger of shrinking?
Oh well, it will be worth it in the end, particularly if you sponsor me (which incidentally, you can do here http://www.justgiving.com/Richard-Stanton2 )
After all, if I can do things that make me look like this......
Having spent the last 48 hours since my re-acquaintance with the ancient Japanese art of being hurt in pyjamas, I've not really been able to do much by way of exercising - or indeed moving - and the clo...sest I came to a work-out yesterday was shirking my small mouse for the full size one (although not, if I'm honest, the one with the ball, just the little shiny-light one - but hey, it's not called the speed of light for nothing and perhaps some of it will rub off?).
However, recognising that small burst of exercise, punctuated by days of immobility, moaning in pain and making the sort of noises I would normally associate with a tree in danger of falling down whenever I tried to get up from the sofa is not going to get me to Brighton (or even to the start line), I did some abdominal exercises with my new gadget (more about that another time), but realised that I really needed to walk.
Having for once organised myself enough to eat early, I bit the bullet, pulled on a hoodie and a hi-viz bib because I neither wanted to get run over or mistaken for a 'yoof', primed Runkeeper and my impulse-buy wristband, fired up the iplod and off I went.
Now, my choice of clothing was based on the fact that I'd been told it was cold out but, as far as I could see, it was dry and therefore I decided it wasn't going to rain.
This may have been optimistic.
The aim was to push the speed a little more this time, rather than go for distance, which highlights that one simply cannot power-walk to classical adagios or, for that matter, to episodes of the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. Skipping forward (on the iplod, not me. I haven't skipped since Country Dancing in Mrs Housley's class in Primary School) I found something with a bit of a beat and off I went.
The training guide for the Walk says the route is hilly and you should practice on hills if possible. I'm fortunate enough to live somewhere that is quite hilly, in a staggering-back-from-the-station-with-shopping rather than a call-me-a-sherpa-pass-the-bobble-hat sort of way and a good beat makes hills seem much flatter and more forgiving.
Incidentally, this is a lie perpetuated by the Music companies.
About half-way down the first hill, my left knee and thigh finally began to feel like the Alligator that had been gripping it was getting bored and letting go, although I was concerned he was merely aiming higher and would soon have a crack at the chest and I was moving more easily. Please understand - this is not a claim to gazelle-like grace, just less like a shopping trolley with three wheels.
This was the point I began to feel good.
This was also the point that it began raining.
At first, just a fine mist. 'No problem' I told myself, it's nice. Refreshing.
Perhaps this was my mistake. Had I cursed it and huddled somewhere, the Rain-G*ds may have settled. But oh no, not me. I have to be all stoic and stiff-upper-lipped (incidentally the only part of my that wasn't stiff after Judo). As a consequence, I could hear them say "Oh right, so that's the way you want it".
And it started to rain. Really rain. Rain like it meant it. And not content with raining ON me, it decided to rain AT me, so they conjured up a wind that blew it straight in my face. This was clever, as even when I changed direction, it still managed to be right in my face.
Now music hath charms to sooth the savage breast, but it doesn't do much for a rain-sodden asthmatic one. So the last mile of my walk was spent trying to wedge my head between my shoulder-blades, to desperately keep my phone and iPlod dry and wondering why, oh why, did I not go to the gym and run on one of those hamster-track thingies?
The ones just a few feet from the cappuccino bar.
So, the result is a somewhat abbreviated walk, at a pace that was, I have no doubt, restricted by the fact that I was wetter than Cod's belly-button and more miserable than an MP whose expenses claim is being checked.
Do you have to stretch more when you're in danger of shrinking?
Oh well, it will be worth it in the end, particularly if you sponsor me (which incidentally, you can do here http://www.justgiving.com/Richard-Stanton2 )
After all, if I can do things that make me look like this......
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