Author: Buck

I’ve got my passport back, all brand new and funky with a less serial-killer/-yak-molester photo’ in. Which is always a bonus if you want to try and get through customs without a cavity search. At the very least I expect flowers before that. The French is progressing. Slower now, but I am understanding it. Instead of giving you lists of words and all their different endings he’s explaining the logic behind the endings. Whilst building your vocabulary and giving you practice in structuring the sentences. Negations are tricky. Adding an N, flipping the order if it’s a question, changing the ending of the verb, and then working out where you are going to stick the ‘not’.  He says he’s teaching us how to use the verbs, “if you can use the verbs you can use the language.” Anyway, I do half a C.D.’s worth (about an hour and a half/ two hours) then my brain melts out of my ears and I have to call it a day. The next day I go back over the last half of what I did (quarter C.D.), understand it this time around, then do another quarter. This way each day is half revision/ consolidation, half challenging and moving forward. The speed of progression has slowed, but it’s solid learning. I’m not skimming and moving on without understanding. I’m halfway through C.D. 4. The whole of the Basic French course is 8 C.D.’s. I have to say, even though it’s only French, the first choice of UK second languages, I am quite thrilled about the thought of having another tongue. Hopefully German will come a bit easier after picking up one language. Who knows, maybe finally learn Russian properly?   All is going swimmingly, I’ve got my passport and am learning French, Wendy has sent off for her passport, I’ve sent off for that police criminal record thing… and that’s where we hit the wall. That was a formality. I’ve only got a driving offence and (apart from 3 points for speeding- that now stay on four years, grrrr- off next year) it is ‘spent’ and history. Not so. Apparently if you’ve had any brushes with law if you are applying for a foreign visa you HAVE to declare them. Ace. So I can’t waltz into the states and test my passport that way, I have to apply for a visa and go through an interview process. With Canada, they respect other country’s ‘spent/ clean slate’ policies but you still have to apply for a rehabilitation of offenders form and be judged. So stupid drunken 30’s me may have just shafted TT, upright-citizen me good and proper. Bollocks.   Not over till the fat trucker sings. I will apply for both visas and carry on with the plan. If it’s a ‘no’, …, well, karma’s a bitch.   I got my race results. Official time was 1:39.41 About what I thought. I broke the 1:40 barrier, which wasn’t a bad effort considering I ran […]

I did the half marathon this morning. Lovely day for it. I was going great guns. They have pace-setter runners who have a helium filled balloon displaying the time they are going for. I started in the 1:30 – 1:45 section, but when we set off the 1:45 pace-setter was way ahead of me. I wanted to threaten 1:30 this year so I had to work my way through the pack until I could see the 1:30 balloon. I missed the first mile marker, but paced myself going up the cantilever bridge hill, opened my legs and got a trot on going down. When I checked my time at the 2 mile point I was averaging 7.15 m/m. Or 1:34 for the distance. I was feeling OK at the faster pace. Then at mile 4 my quads began to cramp again. My right thigh first, then the left. There was nothing I could do about it so I pushed on. At the 10 mile point, after running 6 miles with cramped quads, I was still averaging 7.30 m/m, good enough for 1:37. Then there was the long, slow downhill past the Dingle and under the Bridgewater Canal. The bit where you get free speed and everyone was getting a move on. My thighs were crippling me and I was slowing down. I gritted my teeth and stumbled on. I was so grateful for the uphill of the cantilever, but then the steep downhill on the other side finished me. I got to the bottom and had to stop. I tried stretching my quads (by lifting my foot up against my bum, I could barely lift my foot off the floor, my thighs were screaming!) but that was useless. I just had to start running again. It was bloody killing me, but at least I knew it was flat from there on in, so the pain wouldn’t get any worse. On mile 12 –13 I had enough energy to pick the pace up and overtake people again. It wasn’t that the pain was any less, just that it would be over in a bit and I still had loads of energy. I forgot to stop my stopwatch on the line, but after a brief conversation with an official who wanted to make sure I was alright and a stagger to the goody-bag area it was 1:40.15  I reckon I did it in 1:39, but until they publish the official times am kidding myself it might have been a 1:38. I was shouting out loud when I tried to stretch off. The pain was intense. Still, new PB for that course, my previous best being 1:42.38 I really think I could have threatened the 1:30 mark though. Gutted.   I’ve spent some time researching what caused quad cramps, after ruling out sodium deficiency (studies show it’s not primarily that) and period pains (I’m way past the menopause) the two likeliest suspects are; new trainers (Dammit! I like these trainers, comfiest and fastest […]

This has been a quiet week. It’s the Warrington half marathon tomorrow so I’ve taken a week off exercising to fully rest up for it. It means I’ve had loads of free time to kill, and that the weather has been perfect for training. Obviously. Last Sunday was my last run. I did the route into Frodsham, up Froddy hill, down the other side for half a mile and then back. 13 very hilly miles. The two mile ascent to the top of the hill is a slow rise followed by a mile straight up. As it’s the halfway point of the run it can be a bit tiring. ‘Train hard, fight easy’, as they say. Wendy and I had been feeling a bit weakened with some bug that was going round. I forced myself to do the run as it was my last chance if I wanted a week’s R&R. Happily, although I felt weak as a kitten driving over there, when I got going I was alright. I sweated it out, hit the start of the big climb and just pushed through. I nearly killed myself getting to the top of Frodsham hill then tried to get my breath back on the half mile descent. Suddenly my right thigh muscle cramped like a bitch. I tried to ignore it but it was hurting that much I really thought I’d done myself a mischief. I was gutted. The free-speed, easy, reward part of the run was ruined. I had to stop and beat it a bit to try and get it working. Then stretched off. I started again, same thing. The real downer was it was at exactly the halfway point. I couldn’t be any further away from the car. And I had the two mile descent to contend with. So I could either try and run back or limp for hours. I chose to run. I had to stop, (on the downhill! Grrrr!) a further three times. It was hurting that much I was actually faster and in less pain on the uphills. I’ve never had that before. Hopefully never will again, but now I’ve had it I’m always going to be conscious of the fact it could happen. Totally not good. I used to mock the tennis players and the like who got the physio on for a cramp, never again! Pure misery.   In other news, Op Canada is progressing apace. I’ve sent away for a new passport and am learning French. I’ve done the first two CD’s worth. I’m most of the way through the third but I’m going to have to go back and try to get my head around a strange rule. You have to change verb endings. I have some of it, such as when there is ‘does/ doesn’t –ing’ words, but there is more to it. Very good course though. Referring to old English (Shakespearian and King James Bible era English – Lord Of The Rings English I think of it […]

Cancel last. Cancel everything. Momentous things are afoot. Sod the bike-bus, the camper van and the transfer-to-Cornwall job, I have a new plan; Canada! Home of the brave, land of the free. Or some such. It happened like this; I was looking on Gmaps Pedometer to chart a bike route. Before I’d zoomed in it was showing the whole world. On a whim I measured how far it would be to ride across Russia. (Straight lines, East to West, via Moscow, then while you’re there anyway, a quick nip down to Odessa, then back up to Blighty, on to home. It’s something like 7,500 miles.) I was starting to speculate on that for a new challenge but was put off by the language barrier. Then I looked next door, a few miles across the Bering Straight and you’ve got Canada. A mere 5,780 miles at it’s widest point. Legendarily flat and cycle friendly, like Holland with mooses. (sic) OK, technically there are the Rocky Mountains to contend with, but how hard can they be? I was thinking a leisurely 100 miles a day, as I’d have to carry quite a bit of kit. I started looking into it. Masses of Canada is wilderness. They have a deadly snake, the wolverine, wolves, and three types of bear. The grizzly being the most lethal. The advice was “Try to avoid contact. If you get into a fight with a grizzly it’s probably not going to end well.” Sage advice. You can tell they really researched that one. So; wilderness, carrying however many days supplies, all the spares I may need, camping equipment and bear-repellent-bat-spray. Over a mountain range at some point. How much fun does that sound?   The proper issues arise when you start costing it out, though. Flights, with bike and kit, two months supplies whilst not being paid for two months…, dear do. I still fancy it though. This lead me to idly googling  ‘Canadian truck driving jobs’. They are absolutely gagging for UK truckers. There is an ongoing shortage of drivers. Even with the recession. Apparently Canada’s manufacturing industry is doing very well for itself, thank you very much, and is shipping it all to America. They can’t keep up with the increased demand and the retirement of existing truckers. They are so keen they’ve brought in an immigration by-pass thing. Trucking doesn’t make it on the ‘top boffin and other asset people’ list, so they have introduced a special ‘people we need right NOW’ attachment to the list. And therein lies my first hurdle. You are trucking to the US. ie, you have to be able to gain access to the country. People have been turned away at border control for tweeting criticisms of the US or ‘threatening’ jokes.  As we all know, I am a flag-waving, all American cheerleader. As of three days ago.   So here’s the plan; next year we are going to Canada on holiday. (In itself a big event and thrilling! I’ve […]

I had another go at my Ironlap today. The bottle dynamo, which I repaired, re-positioned and tested before setting out, failed utterly. Again. I had to keep stopping, putting in the next position on my ‘phone, starting the GPS, and the satnav, seeing where I was supposed to go, then shutting it all down again to save my battery. Then I’d find I’d missed my turn and have to backtrack. And so it went. That ‘hill’ at 48 miles, that a fellow triathlete described as “a bit of a leg-burner” is an utter nightmare. You wind up a steep hill. (You get to the summit, think ‘YAY!’, whizz to the bottom on the other side then find you’ve missed your turn and have to go back up the hill. After about 50 hard miles. Your tears on the return ascent are hidden by the sweat running off you.)  I was thinking that at least I’d done the worst hill, that now it was just normal roads back to Warrington. Ha! The road that I should have turned on to, Rivington Way (Rivington something) is the nightmare, the preceding climb was just a warm up. I was following a dedicated cyclist (as opposed to a triathlete) who seemed to know the roads. He was having to stand up on his pedals to get up. I passed a bunch of mountain-bikers who were pushing their (off road ratio-ed bikes) up the road. I ended up stood up on the pedals in first gear. My thighs were on fire. The thing is, on the Ironman (IM) you have to do three laps of the course. That’s three ascents of that bitch of a hill. The first one was painful and sapping, by the third…   I had to stay off satnav after that as my battery was down to single figures. Obviously I got totally lost. Then after five hours riding (and stopping to shout at the satnav) I got a puncture coming down the East Lancs. What I was doing on the East Lancs I have no idea. That took me 21 minutes to repair. Anyway, it was about six hours I was out. I reckon I did between 80 – 90 miles. Even if you knock off a whole hour for stoppages that is, at best, 90 miles in 5 hours. I am not claiming that, btw, I’m just saying at best. Maybe 82 miles, 5 hours 15. Pitiful.   On Wednesday it was bloody windy so I had a bad ride in against the wind. I had to race the whole way as I was late setting out. As per.For a change I got an early finish so decided to make the most of it. I charged the 10.75 miles home, quickly swopped cycling shorts for running ones and shot back out. That was my first transition run in ages. The odd thing was my legs felt fresh. I was going to do a slow hour run, I was thinking […]