Author: Buck

We’ve had quite the eventful couple of weeks. Before I start let me say Wendy is OK. We didn’t know that at the time, though. It must have been Sunday night, I was playing on the internet, Wendy was watching crap on the telly, when she called me. She was suddenly in a world of pain, right in the centre of her chest around the solar plexus (the bit where your ribs meet at the bottom) . She was doubled up with it. She said she couldn’t breathe and if felt like she had a crushing weight on her chest. I thought it was a heart attack. I shit. I gave her some aspirin and looked up the new NHS advice number, then rang that 111 thing. They got talking to her and immediately sent out an ambulance. The ambulance people said it wasn’t her heart (phew!) but had to take her in anyway. I followed in the car. They gave her some serious kick-arse pain killers which settled her after a while. Then the doctor came in and prodded her. She was still very tender around the solar plexus. Apparently this is also the site of the the pancreas. Gail, Wendy’s top-nurse sister,  had warned her of that when we were drinking; that pancreatitis –damage from drinking-  was fatal. If you’ve got it you’re a gonner. So we have been lead to believe, might not be true. Anyway, we were again thinking she was on her way out. They ran a battery of blood tests and it wasn’t her pancreas. We were quite giddy then. We’d both thought she was going to die. Gawd bless the NHS! They sent her away but said she’d have to come back as an outpatient for an endoscopy and scan. By coincidence our nextdoor-but-one neighbour asked Wendy what the ambulance was for, and she has been having the same. Agonizing pain starting in the centre of the chest, in the area of the pancreas as we now think of it, then spreading right around to her back. It’s her gall bladder. She was just about to have it removed. Wendy had another attack four days later, then an even worse one while we were on holiday last week. We rang the doctors the next day to see if they’d got the notification from the hospital and booked and appointment, they said it was unclear who was supposed to be booking the outpatient visits. We were a bit miffed, but what are you going to do? Wendy was going to go to the doctors on Monday and try to get them to sort out an appointment. We were thinking it was going to be weeks of ballache. We got back off holiday today and the hospital have sent her an appointment for a scan for next Thursday! Gawd bless the NHS and all who sail on her! If it it gall stones, which apparently block bile ducts or some other voodoo, they will show […]

I’ve had a bit of fun in the Lakes the last two weeks. Friday last week, when I was looking forward to an early dart so I could do some hard training on Saturday, I got to my furthest point from base and broke down. I’d gone under the trailer I was to take and started the ‘tug test’ (where you try to drive forward, twice, to make sure you are properly connected.) There was an electrical type smell and a red light flashed up on the dash saying the clutch was knackered. Ace. I rang work and they got a local mechanic out. He tried to reboot the clutch but it wasn’t having it.He wanted to call out a tow truck to recover the truck and trailer but I told him the route I have to take you physically can’t fit a truck, trailer and tow truck. He left. I rang work again. They said they’d send a driver up in another unit (truck). 3 hours drive. He didn’t have satnav and didn’t know the run. Can you see how my day was going? I told him that he was going to have to take the bloody scary route I have to use as the main road is still closed to lorries. To be sure of my instructions I asked a local driver. I told him I take the A591, as per the traffic office’s directions. “All our drivers go that way.” The driver strongly disagreed. There is a simple route of main roads and dual carriageways that only puts about 10 minutes on the journey. The 591?  “No driver would ever go that way!” Better and better. The thing is though, after crapping myself for the first week, I quite like that route now. It’s demanding but so focusing. This meant I had to talk the rescue driver through a route I’d never travelled. The blind leading the blind. He got there in the end and I drove the unit and my trailer back to Irlam, there to drop him off and carry on to Crewe, then back to Irlam. The one good thing of the shift was one of the Crewe drivers had come into Irlam and they talked him into hanging around. He took my trailer off me. So it was only a 13 hour shift. *muted yay* I went up again yesterday. You’d be amazed at the amount of people on a Bank Holiday who don’t expect an artic and 42’ trailer to be barrelling around the corner on a tiny road. At least I now know what a car and caravan sound like when they are sliding to a stop. There must have been nearly an inch between us on that bend. Big girl’s blouse. It’s amazing how soon you adjust to the tolerances. There is a bit on the A57 (Manchester Road) going to Irlam. Just one corner, that I always hated passing lorries. Now I don’t even think about it. It’s been […]

I’m trying to think what exciting things have happened in my sabbatical. Well, last week I had a bump at Iceland. That was an utter downer. Some berk parked his van just where I needed to put my cab for the reverse. I had to swing the trailer around one building and between it and another. Because it was a roof top delivery they also had 2 feet tall barriers to protect the buildings. Rather than ask the van driver to move (which, in retrospect is what I should have done) I screwed the trailer in really tight. Unfortunately I lost side of the barrier on the blind side and caught it with the mudguard of the unit. Balls. I think that’s my Iceland driving finished. It’s one of those situations where you are just looking at the hanging off mudguard and kicking yourself. Not a thing you can do about it. Balls, balls, balls. That was supposed to be a quick shift last Saturday. With waiting for the mechanic and the bodge fix it turned into nearly 13 hours. The long and short of which is I didn’t get to run last weekend.   The weekend before I did the first 10 mile lap, then one lap of the 14 mile route then it rained on me and I lost my mojo. I’d gone at it too hard and fast (about 3½ hour marathon pace) and crashed suddenly. Plus the new energy powder I got at nearly half the price of my usual has the unfortunate side effect of knocking you sick. This is doubly bad as it gives you an aversion to drinking it, hence a failure to hydrate. Also, with the training as I’m doing it, the laps start and finish at home. This means you need massive mental strength to force yourself back out the door when you are already in a bad state. However, after that pitiful 24 mile effort I resolved to do it right next time.   Today was next time. I set my sites on the full 50 miles. Ambitious, as it would only be my second run over marathon length, but as one of the mantras states; “You are the only person who can say you can’t do it. And you don’t have to listen”. So off I jolly well trotted. I did an 8 mile lap, then I planned to do the 14 mile lap thrice. I’ve ordered some trail running trainers with a goretex top, supposed to be waterproof. They haven’t arrived yet though. So obviously it poured down and there were loads of puddles. My trainers were soaked after the first 14 mile lap so my feet were rapidly ruined. The rest of me was soaked as well, but that’s not too much of a problem in warm weather. I managed 2 laps but I just couldn’t face sloshing my way back along the canal path again. At the point where the path turns off to our house […]

Hot. Damn hot. Hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut. To be honest I think the BBC’s weather reporting is getting a bit too informal. It has been beastly. Mainly due to the garage pissing me about so I’ve been riding to work every day in this damnable heat. Not that I wouldn’t have anyway. Committed triathlete and all. *coughs* The insurance people and the garage’s own telephone crew said “it could be as long as 5 days.” That was 19 days ago. They say the replacement panels they were sent were damaged so had to re-order them. Then when they came to fit them they noticed the front panel was damaged as well so they’ve had to order that. Now they are saying they should have it done for Monday, so I’ll be able to pick it up Tuesday. Bah. To be honest it’s just the weekly big shop that has been the problem. Riding to work is what I’m supposed to do. I’ve not been able to give Wendy a lift in of a morning, but that just means I get more of a lie-in, so her loss is my gain. And my training’s loss. Lie-ins mean I’ve no time to train before work. Talking of which, I read a forum on Runners World about who was up for next year’s Outlaw. I read a few pages and got a bit irritated with the preachy attitudes. Noobs, you’ve got to be able to ride X miles in Y hours and swim like a dolphin or you can’t do it. I commented that I’d done one ride over 60 miles, less than 20 swims in 2 years and had buggered my run fitness with an injury for several months before this year’s Outlaw, finishing in 14.09. “If you are a bit stubborn and eat at every feed station you can do it.” I thought this was an encouragement to the newbs, if a fat old useless duffer like me can do it, anyone can. What I failed to consider was some of the people on there had trained really hard and only just scraped a finish and some were DNF. Oops. My well meaning post was perceived as saying they were all shite. As you can imagine, this generated some comments. I later backtracked. As that was my second a basic level of fitness was enough to get me through. The first year was tough going from my first half marathon to my first Outlaw in 9 months. But I did it. So what was that? Just over a year to go from coach tatty to Outlaw.  Of course it was hard, it’s meant to be. Grit your teeth, man-up and do it. Which brings me neatly to today. I thought that 50 mile run was in about 4 weeks and I’ve not done any distance training. So I strapped on my trainers, loaded up my bag, found a 38 mile run route and set off. It […]

We’ve done the Outlaw. No-one wants to hear about that any more. That would be very boring. However, I will say in passing that it was so bad on the day I was thinking that was my last triathlon. Until I got that statistic that once I finished the swim I managed to overtake over 200 men. (That was how the statistics were presented, ‘men’s race’. I’m not trying to fudge the figures or discount the women, shitloads of them kicked my sorry arse.) That is incredible. If I took swim lessons I could be a contender. I’m up for it again now. Here’s some snaps and we’ll move on, saying no more about it. Pushing it out for the finish. Every inch exist in miles. And over the line, unaware I was being photographed; Do. They. Ever! As I said on Twitter, “This is what it’s all about: “You can talk of personal growth and aims, but really it’s all about wearing a T-shirt that says ‘I am awesome, bow before me’”   This week I’ve been back to training, perforce, as the garage have my car. I did the first two days in this beastly heat on the bike, nearly 22 miles a day commute, flat out in top gear and lost 2lb! Bonus. As I’m thinking of kicking some triathlon arse next year I’m trying to heat acclimatise myself. If you can race in this you can blitz a cool day. So I bought a hat, donned my gallon of water holding bag and set off this afternoon. Goddamn! It’s a great idea but heat kills me stone dead. Still, keep at it. Check the hat with the neck curtain thingy: As one of my Twitter chums noted, Beau Buck! I was getting strange looks on my run today, with my hat and backpack with the water bottles and such. People obviously thinking I was taking the bit of sunshine too seriously as they were running in just shorts. It’s heat conditioning, dammit. And it killed me. What else? Not a lot. Sleep, train, work. I did make a resolution to avoid the A30 in Cornwall when I do my LEJOG (Land’s End- John O’Groats) as two Scottish riders were killed this week shortly after starting a LEJOG.. They’d only been riding a few hours  when they got twatted by a HGV. Dead as Betamax, just like that. Lorry drivers! They’re all arseholes.   Anyway, on to more fun stuff, namely the wonderful world of Twitter. Again I’ve been a tad busy so I’ve not been on that much. But I have two weeks of it. Here goes; The DMreporter had: SNOOPING: Cameron tackles President Obama over claims the US spied on Britain – “it’s cool, I don’t mind, we’re still friends right…?” BONKERS: EU ruling to reduce mobile roaming charges ‘threatens UK companies profits, lowers tax payments and takes away orphanage funding.’ DISGUSTING: Fury as radical feminists undermine Andy Murray’s Wimbledon victory by claiming a WOMAN […]