Bagel Parade

My goodness, what an international readership I have. This month I have clocked pageviews from the following, in order of most views:

United Kingdom
United States
Germany
Czech Republic
Ethiopia
South Africa
Switzerland
South Korea Today, to the disgust of N, my alarm went off at 0500. Rather than just a water parade to make sure I was hydrated for impending exercise I also ate a pre peanut buttered bagel that was sat on my bedside table. Bagel devoured I then went back to sleep till 0540. After that I cycled through the dark frosty morning to the swimming pool. I swam till 0800 then jumped back onto the bike to enjoy a beautiful ride into the office. On the way through Old Windsor I was overtaking the slow traffic. I'm not keen on going on the inside of traffic. As I reached the end of Old Windsor and headed up towards the long walk crossing cars kept seeing me coming and gave me room to overtake. This was rather fun and I really pushed myself. I then realised that the traffic was speeding up as the incline gently increased. It burnt the legs somewhat as I sped up to keep up with the cars in front and I had to ignomoniously drift back over to the left to try to maintain some form as those cars that I had zipped past returned the favour. Not such a beautiful ride home. Sleety, wet and cold. Puddles swamped accross roads, car headlights dazzled off them, concealing all pot holes and not making for good grip. I owe a lot to my bike which took a lot in her stride and often was left to fend for herself as my glasses steamed up or hit a particularly viscious squall momentarily blinding me. I left lots of room and dominated the road, most cars were OK with that but I was pushed past by several people eager to get home 1 minute faster. By the time I got to the dual carriage way near Thorpe Park my legs were in a pumping rythm  but with no street lights, frequency of puddles and speed of traffic I decided to ride on the pavement. Ride to arrive. Well over an hour to get back from Windsor was a bit of a drag.

Competition

My blog has let you down lately, entries have been perfunctory and insights short sighted. My apologies.

This lunchtime I went for a run on the local common and had a jolly wet and slippery time. Leaving the house I was a bit achy and stiff from previous beastings and sitting still in front of a laptop all morning but by the time I had fallen over for the first time I was feeling joyful. Podcast of choice was The Bugle which entertained me but mid way I switched to  nothing to enjoy some solitude and reflect on the content of today's blog. Here goes.

I have always enjoyed triathlon as a test of my own ability to push myself and whilst I do hope to not disgrace myself I've never thought of myself as a serious competitor. Looking around in transition and being told the average cost of bike is much higher than mine, seeing the sleek look of wetsuit clad competitors lining up besides me pre swim and knowing the lengths a lot of triathletes go to gain seconds over the race, I am used to feeling a sense of barely contained trepidation pre race. Through experience I've learnt to ignore the fat jokes, the guys with all the gear and the bravado tales of training derring do. I hold my own on the swim, overtake pointy people on the bike then stagger around the run in an asthmatic and sciatic cloud of self pity. 

I set myself targets for timings but I must be honest and say that knowing I have friends doing Ironman Wales I am starting to feel an edge of competiveness creeping in. I hear the mention of one of their training sessions whether it be hilly bike, long swim including fight with lady over lane discipline (snap) or day of multiple sessions and start comparing it to my own efforts. I have to trust myself that following a rough schedule based on a training plan previously created for me by @pinkcycling (follow her please, a great personal trainer) and being diligent in stretching and back strengthening (lesson learnt from the half iron) I will do myself justice. And smash the competition. I mean humiliate my friends and colleagues against whom I'm racing. I mean enjoy the race for its own sake (and get into the top 50%??). 

I'm not willing to make the lifestyle changes that would be needed to really compete, I enjoy my job so much partly because of its varied patterns of working, I love spending time with family and I am too genetically borderline alcoholic to reduce my fine wine waistline dramatically. Volunteering with the air cadets, socialising and being a grown up (taking bins out, dealing with financial advisors, gardening etc) fiercely compete for spare time. Sometimes I use this as an excuse to myself then I man up and use it as a spur to make the most of the opportunities I do get to train.

In conclusion I'm happy with my progress. Somewhere, someone is training harder than I am and I can live with that. That's not to say I shouldn't keep pushing myself though and you are all invited to help so next time you see a cake heading towards my face tell me off or slap it out my hands. If you want to socialise with me invite me out for a run or bike ride. Next time you buy me a drink go for white wine or G&T. Ask me how my training is going. Complement me if progress is seen. Ridicule me remorselessly if not. Play to my spirit of competitiveness as it is 75% against myself that I compete. Watch out fellow triathletes, I might be fat, but I'm slow. And determined. Like an obese Duracell bunny.

Here is a picture of my legs today shortly after I had cleaned in a puddle.

Who nose

My nose won't stop running. I did 3k at River Bourne health club this evening and am suffering for it. I don't get this at other pools and where I've worked harder so either the chemicals they use arent compatible with my nose or their high temp pool is to blame. The other problem with their hot pool is that when I work hard I overheat and feel peculiar. They have also stopped loaning padlocks so if I use then again I need to remember to take them. Between those dramas, the unnecessarily snooty reception staff, my previous experience of them writing off some swims I had paid for and the cold blasting air con in the change room (can't wait for whatever illness I'm going to get from that change in temp), I don't think I'll be going back there.

Last night I spent my evening on the turbo trainer and doing weights, stretching and sit-ups. I'm now feeling rather tired and still hungry even after my additional cheese and mustard sandwich. 

OK I have to go now, my nose is becoming a but of a problem.

Guilt free

My plan is to train every day, stretch every day and do the old push up sit up thing each day. Today? I had intended to bike but it didn't happen but no guilt I feel as a rest day must happen occasionally.

It's burns night here and I have not had to recite Tam O Shanter for first time in about 4 years. I can remember 90% of it since last year but will be a good one to recite whilst swimming long distance so should look it up. I'm going to smash the Shakespeare quotes too as I find internal literary quotation a good distraction.

Charming

I ran yesterday with T at lunch time. She accompanied me at just over 6mph to the bottom of the hill by the copper horse. I ran up and back again then we ran back together with a final independent best effort push at the end. It was good fun to be out with someone. I need to call CG and get him out with me. The next stage will be to get T to run to top of the road, then all the way to the horse. The view makes it very worth while.

The inscription on the statue reads:

GEORGIO TERTIO
PATRI OPTIMO
GEORGIUS REX.

Which could work as a boy's name. We really can't decide actually. Georgio Tertio Patri Optimo Georgius Rex Van Hurst.Or parts thereof.

Today's run took me up to the horse then around a bit of a loop before heading back into Windsor. My legs felt heavy and one or two muscles twinged which made me reflect on the four types of limiting factors one feels whilst running. The first is muscles not working correctly, tired legs. This has an a and b where the a is tiredness induced by that running and b is by over beasting in the proceeding days. The second is heart and lungs not keeping up with the run. The third is mental can't be bothered which is conquered by running anyway and being awesome. The fourth is injury which I am pleased to say doesn't currently afflict me. Today's run was 1b. Some runs feel like they are drama free which I always look forward to but seldom seem to come across.

During the run I also noticed that three chaps I offered nods of acknowledgement to returned them with a smile. What comradery thought I. I then did the same to a lady who though she caught my eye just performed an eyes front and continued on her merry way. I made a mental note of every runner's reaction and found that 8/11 men returned the greeting but NONE of the female runners did. If I were female would they have nodded or smiled or at least given me the eyebrows raised look of pain?  Does it look like I'm oggling? Or judging? Or are my gestures too subtle? My charm whilst running obviously needs some work. Or they were all just miserable. Still a bit affronted actually. Charming.

Bloodshot

I have decided that I will upgrade goggles but I'm going to get prescription lenses. If I wait till April I can claim that back through health insurance so till then I shall have to endure the misery of flooded goggles that occurs regularly in my swim. My left eye is bloodshot now which looks great. Another early start this morning saw me get to the pool not long after six. I accidentally put two pound coins in the locker so had to sort that drama out before I could swim. I warmed up then did 400m sets focusing on the bits I had identified as needing improvement from the coached session. High elbows to get a good pull, squeezing back as arm comes up behind and kicking from the hips were all on my watch list. I'm not sure I noticed much difference in saving energy till I realised that I was actually going faster. After an hour of that I did some of the drills as a bit of a warm down. On the way out I noticed their coffee machine. It claimed it was a real bean delight of a coffee for only £1.20 but I feel it was only mediocre so it won't be stealing my locker money each visit.

I'm metamorphosing

Fear not Kafka fans, no giant bug. I drank a glass of wine with dinner tonight then decided that i had had enough and would vacuum the remainder of the bottle. I was so shocked with myself I had to have another glass. Still, I do find myself eating healthier when exercising more. 

Today's endeavours, in addition to toddler training AM, was a run to the copper horse. I felt a bit challenged in the leg department but pushed on at a gentle pace to finish in 46 minutes. The hill itself is rather wet at the moment so I slipped my way down aerobically, when I get that run to 40 mins I'll start adding some distance. 

A lady in my office, Lady T, is very dedicated in her training and is often espied beasting up and down local steps or Nordic walking around. She was headed out for a run at the point I finished. She always offers great exclamations of encouragent which are very welcome. I hope to persuade her that the copper horse and back is within her capability at lunch time. After that we'll gang up on the office manager who again is capable but unsure.

Swim tomorrow morning then a 14 hr working day so bed for me now. Night night readers.

Blubber boy goes to svelte town

Tonight was the night on which I undertook a trial swim session with Phoenix Tri. The coach was late so I was told my warm up (3x 100m FC 50m back legs only) then quickly introduced before I took both the proverbial and literal plunge.* I opted for the slow lane but found I was in the faster echelon within that. I sensed I was being watched at first but then left to it. The drills were 25 or 50m of the most bizarre swim techniques but what I liked was how it was explained. What to do, what it's preventing/ improving and how it fits into the stroke. My problem was that not being used to quick fire instructions they became self drowning techniques for the first half of the drill before I figured out what I was supposed to do. "Roll every 6 kicks" for instance. Is that a kick cycle so left right as if I were pacing or each foot which seemed rather fast? I didn't ever figure that one out. After a series of those we were left instructions for a series of drills to undertake in 400m chunks. I probably could have pushed myself harder in the session as it was over before I knew it and whilst I didn't slack I was mindful of not wanting to run out of energy. I subjected the chaps in the changing room to some questioning of the wider aspects of the club and each seemed to use it differently. There seem to be some ways in which my current swim technique is causing a lot of unnecessary drag and others where efficiencies are to be gained.  Knackered now.

On a separate point I'm very proud of my daughter doing so well with potty training.

Also I'm starting to enjoy gardening. Don't tell my wife or there will be an expectation.

*wife finds it amusing the lack of attention to detail suggests I was only allowed to use my bak legs.

Running with a purpose.

It was an unenthusiastic Geoff who stepped out of the house this evening. I possibly might have jacked it if it hadn't been for support of wife, need to feed the ever hungry blog and task I had before me. Nicky had left her umbrella at Pizza Express in Weybridge last night so I was gallantly going to run over to get it. It took me until the P&G hill to become enthused and warmed up. After that it became an absolute joy. I'm still not back to standard I was by marathon last year (hey it's only been a couple of weeks) and I've not been pushing run to much for fear of getting the hamstring drama back but this run was great. I saw any hill and attacked it, obstacle I leapt it, banana peel, I slipped on it. On the way back I had to carry a long cath kidtson umbrella which took a while for me to figure out was best to carry  at the port like a rifle. It drew some interesting double takes.

It was a 6.63 run in 1hr2mins with some hills involved. I look forward to that being 40 minutes. Judging by the endorphins that were pumping round me when I completed my sprint finish and walked up and down like a winning race horse, I'm going to enjoy putting the miles in. As I paced up and down outside my house I realised it was raining and felt that all was for the best in this best of possible worlds. The song on my phone could have been written for me, the burn in my thighs was begging to be enjoyed and the umbrella became my Excalibur. An image of my residual self perception at that moment would have made the finest physical specimen of Spartan warrior wish he'd put in a few extra hours at the gym. The post box jumped out at me so it got the good news from my finest fencing moves.

The cleansing mist of rain

Clad his bold stalking form

As he paced like a lion

Relishing the chase

Reliving the kill

But too blown for his fill

Sad people should run. The high one feels is better and cheaper than drugs. Although I must say my experience is rather limited in the drugs field. Definitely cheaper and better for you.

Chaffing pits

Well what a pickle. After an inspiring post written whilst strolling from my car to my office was wiped by iPhone trickery I've not managed to salvage any part of it. 

I set my alarm early this morning and then hallucinated for a while and seemed to gain consciousness in the swimming pool. I warmed up, limbered, did a couple of lengths then Dan arrived. We chatted and looked great for a while then got into some swimming. When I surfaced to say goodby to dan I had some useful feedback about pacing. The last I saw of him was a splashing figure heading down the swimming lane fading into a myopic fog of war. A sea lion like entity leapt out the other end before heading to the showers.

I then swam for an hour, not worrying about counting laps as that is boring because it disrupts whatever song or poem is rattling around my head. After the hour I stretched again and chatted to some chaps about the correct direction to rotate and hydrodynamics. This led into me doing some best effort 50m sprints or lengths where I held my breath for longer etc. this took place until I realised that one piece of peanut butter is not sufficient. Second breakfast was most good, most good.

I feel I am letting you down as this post isn't as exciting as it previously was and I'm now about to go for dinner but it shall have to suffice.

My armpits are chaffing now. 

Looming

Swimming test on Sunday! I hope to meet Dan in the pool tomorrow morning, he has great legs. So a thorough workout tomorrow morning in the pool should allow me to then have enough time to recover before showing how wonderful I am to the coach. Am I nervous? No. Yes. A bit. I meet minimum standards well enough so I shouldn't be but I'm starting to put the pressure on myself and increase the work rate when beasting. The event in the distance looms. Not in the way that Mount Doom would have entered the thoughts of Frodo as he left Rivendel. Nor in the way the battle of Mons would have played on the mind of John Parr as he enlisted into a bicycle recce unit. Perhaps it is more akin to pregnancy. A jolly good lark to get involved, a blissful start, sudden realisation, sickness and pain in early stages settling down into some hard work interspersed with normal life then an increasing awakening to the impending pain of the moment tempered only by the knowledge of the eternal joy of the successful completion of that trial. No nappies involved afterwards though. Perhaps I could extend the metaphor by discussing the feeling of never wanting to repeat the experience directly afterwards followed by the species saving numbing of memory that makes one think "it wasn't THAT bad...". I haven't done an Ironman yet though so I don't know if that will be the same. Maybe I'll have a wetsuit malfunction and never get further than appearing naked from the water long after the cut off for transition. No I won't. I'm not negative at all. 12 hours of pain (fun) and life of smugness to look forward to. Should I get the IM tattoo?

Goggles, its a wonderful wife and no followers

I have a dilemma. Nothing to keep in a terrarium but certainly needs some looking after. I have been wearing my old goggles to the swimming pool (or oiik as I just typed) because I would inwardly mock myself for having all the gear and a distinct lack of idea if I were to wear my outdoor predators at my current girth and standard. They are beautiful things to wear but I don't really need the tint indoors and I'd rather save them for outdoor swimming. On the other hand I have to do a lot of fiddling around with the current pair to stop the swimming pool joining me eye balls. In what sort of time do I need to push out 500m to be able to justify ally kit?

Talking of timing my swim, my amazing wife announced to me today that in order to support my training effort (and possibly get me out the house) she will buy me membership to a triathlon club. A local club suggests that one should comfortably accomplish 400m in under 10 minutes front crawl to join. I tested that this evening and am happy to report there was no difficulty at all other than child swimming into me that causes any drama. They also want a 5k run in under 30 minutes with which I am happy.

Why is bake off involved in sports relief? Get fat then do sport?

Google told me today that I have no followers. Please follow me, it will boost my self esteem. Sponsorship and publicising this blog will also make all involved feel fuzzy inside.

Music to calm the savage beast?

I have been listening to my entire playlist on shuffle as I haven't yet sorted out my Beasting Playlist. One song,  Meredith Brooks' 'Bitch' got me singing out loud though I don't think I know the words. It made me realise that I haven't done karaoke for far too long. Possibly the last time was in a small pub in Okehampton the year I first started going out with the lovely lady who is now my wife. Just proves how attractive I must be when karaoking. I also stumbled onto Sir Mix A Lot's 'Baby Got Back' a delightful pastoral piece that champions women's rights and is sponsored by Obesity UK. Whilst listening to that song I wondered if there were any other Sir Mix A Lot songs or if he recorded that one and realised that he could never surpass that perfection. It transpires that in a crazy bid to make money more than one song was much mixed and he has a song called Iron Man. Recover your poise please blogee, if that ironic revelation hit you as hard as a mix a lot rump slap (as it did me) then you'll need a second or two. Good to proceed? Ok. 

Some of the lyrics struck a chord with me: "Live a hard life, shave with a knife

Love to get freaky on the gloomiest nights" and "Flesh like steel, MC's kneel

Mickey D's Shrimp Salad not part a my meal".

After a beautiful day I managed to find a weather window for which deluge sounds a bit too dry. My left hamstring, up by the gluteus Maximus (commander of the legions of the North) has been a bit suspect after I did something silly though not for these pages yesterday.* I ran gently and more on my toes than usual and ended up going much faster than I'd anticipated despite the twinge. A glimmer of fitness perhaps? I love running in the pouring rain, once a certain level of saturation has been achieved it becomes a purely liberating experience. Weights and abs afterwards. Need to work on my sit ups.

My daughter calls icebergs 'iceburgers'. I was hoping to intricately weave that snippet of her adorable linguistic development seamlessly into this post but it's too late and I'm up early tomorrow.

*this made me think a lot about art, the nature of blogging, benefits of anonymity (which I lack) as a blogger and protecting private life versus giving you something interesting to read. A stream of consciousness slightly refined from my beasting is the best I can offer today.

Hammer time

So yesterday's hastily written post did cause me to burn the fish fingers. Regrettably they were also still not cooked. We ate them whilst watching Arnie in Last Stand which was much better than expected.

I must report in today that I have spent an hour and a half in the swimming pool and an afternoon undertaking manual labour. The swimming was with a toddler so not as impressive as it could have been. I got serious man points by breaking up the fence panels that came down in the storm, fixing the shed, hauling massive objects out the ground, digging, planting trees, burning stuff etc.

At one point I had one foot balanced on a concrete fence post and the other on the back of a chair whilst hammering. I wasn't sure if I was being cool or acting as inspiration for an opening of an episode of Casualty.

Righty is still feeling like he could do with a holiday but not like needing a trip to the doctor so it's man up time old chap and don't spare the flexing.

I really fancy a run now but I have recently eaten a roast dinner. I don't think that it would be my finest of plans to indulge that whim.

Pec problems and a trip out

The first of my problems is in defining which Pec I'm talking about. My Czech readership may justifiably think I have had a mishap at a Ski resort, whilst the twitchers amongst you would have wondered what migratory mishaps the Pectoral Sandpiper has now found itself in. The fitness fans in the audience would have automatically and correctly pictured an Atlas-esk figure with a chiseled chest. Therin lies the first problem. At what point do they stop being man-boobs and become worthy of that desireable noun?

In the context of a muscle problem I have perhaps I should refer to my right pectoral major.

Last night I went to bed last night looking forward to the warm glow in the morning after the chest press exercises I had done followed by plenty of swimming and some press ups in the subsequent 24 hours. When I awoke this morning I found that Lefty was feeling good, perhaps a little ache but just to join in with Righty* who was not happy at all. Fighting for more attention than a monkeyless duaghter at bedtime and more restricted than the large lady I saw at softplay it has really been unpleasant. I'm hoping Ibprofen gel and red wine will help it. I have recently discovered that my wife and Fletch have agreed to split the task of rubbing it better.

A cycle this evening to Newlands Corner on the newly steerable bike was good, a road was closed so I turned round and went back up a nice hill before deciding I should try and fight my way through. The reason for this is that I was keen to use that route as a good yardstick for progress for me on my bike. About 20 miles with some good elevation and relatively clear roads for North Surrey, I'd like to see it done in under an hour before I go for a run (eventually). I managed to get through but it involved portage and some angry workmen so I need a new route now. Overall I did about 25 miles and found THE hill easier than last time and despite the wet when coming down had more confidence.

At one point I think my sense of fun overtook my sense of personal safety before I saw I was approaching some wet leaves. My fingers leapt for the break instinctively but by applying some serious will power found myself easily taking the corner. The over confidence meant that I unintentionally got the back end out at some traffic lights shortly afterwards which was a little thrilling. On to the long winding gentle downhill I stuck to the drier middle of the road. A beeping horn at one point revealed an impatient BMW who I then kept pace with till my legs remembered that they aren't mechanical and returned to enjoying the ride.

Dinner burning got to go. x

*Yeah so I have given my pecs names, guess what else has names.

Good Service

I write this while trying not to move too much as I seem to have misplaced the means to stop by burglar alarm and if I move too much I'll trigger the motion sensor again. Nicky home soon...

I am as excited as an electron moving to a higher energy orbital in an atom. I am incredibly impressed with Garmin and TheBikeCompany in Windsor.

Chums (possibly including you, thanks) clubbed together a couple of years ago to buy me a Garmin Forerunner 310XT. For those not in the know it is a GPS watch which can be paired with my bike to tell me how fast I pedal (cadence) and a heart rate monitor to monitor my heart rate (heart rate). It is waterproof and can record for up to 20 hours. My pride and joy recorded many hours of activity and I found it motivational knowing that any lack of effort would be visible to not only the whole world but also to a future version of me. Unfortunately it recently died in a manner too horrible to mention.

I called Garmin, paid £70, sent my old one back and was told I'd have to wait up to 14 days from when they received the unit. Two days later a brand new watch is awaiting my arrival when I get home. I look forward to recording some beastings and sharing them with you all to prove that I am actively trying to deflate the rubber ring that I have stuck around my middle. Compared to the original price tag I'm very pleased.

@TheBikeComany I couldn't rate higher. After I missed my scheduled fix up (floods!) I dropped the bike off to fit in if possible. Having been told the worst case scenario for needing new parts I was resigned but confident in leaving it in their hands. It was fixed up by the time I needed it and I had a good chat with the technician who informed me that it was extremely dirty and had been overtightened (thanks Halfords - idiots) but otherwise was good quality and good condition. No extra money for parts. What a change in the steering after the service and what a refreshing customer experience.

I took the bike for a half hour spin on arrival home and it was amazing. Incredible what I had been putting up with.

That on top of an hour swim today will compensate for the Chinese food craving that N had which I had to share.

So! Looking forward to a clear couple of hours to ride my bike and record the ride. I hope you are enjoying the blog, I'm still getting back into my blogging rhythm.

Remote

Wow I'm frustrated. I just wrote the best blog post to have ever been pre published, hit a button by mistake and left the app. The result? Guess.

Correct, loss of post.

I had spoken about bike compliments, comments about "that steering isn't stiff it's dangerous" and positive experiences about the bike company in Windsor.

I also wrote eloquently about going on a treadmill and comparing it to the great outdoors, out of routine weights and swimming in a small pool with limited time.

Floods were also mentioned.

Bloody iPhone.

Out.

My wish list

New running shorts. I am down to one decent, non chafing, pair now.
New warm cycle trousers
New headset for bike (booked in for tomorrow)
New Garmin Forerunner 310XT (due for replacement any day soon, stay tuned)
New running play list for my phone (suggestions?). Updated iPhone and it lost previous one.
More running socks. I spent money on some decent double layer running socks and have been blister free since. Although my toenails did turn black after the marathon but I dont blame socks for that.
Another pair of trainers. I'm not sure how much abuse these are going to be able to take, a pair of trail shoes would be good in this weather
Race entry into at least an Olympic Tri, a Marathon and a cycling Sportif in advance of the Ironman
Swimming membership at lots of gyms as I alternate (to keep paparazzi guessing)
To smash my fundraising target
To gain a large following on Beasting Blog (if each of you reading this now recommended it to one million friends each I would have a million followers. Go.)
More time to be a husband, daddy, friend, employee, gentleman of leisure, and most importantly, in the context of this blog, beaster.
Big bearded man to visit me with the above. I don't care if that is Hagrid, Santa Claurious ( as my daughter insists he is called), Brian Blessed or Gimli son of Gloin.

I'm on a first aid course for the next couple of days. I hope to figure out how to update blog from my phone to keep all my loyal blogees entertained.
Gosh, as an aside, I should write a chillingly professional and unexpectedly triumphant blog post then yell  "Are you not entertained!?" Something for May perhaps. Now I want to watch Gladiator.

I undertook a lunchtime run today to the Copper Horse and back. I hopped a surprising amount for a grown man last night (as part of the drills a physio gave me after Army buggered up my ankle) so my calves were tighter than the training top that I bought whilst I was skinny then couldn't take off after using it as a base layer yesterday. Same awesome headwind on the way up then seemingly perfect tranquillity on the way back meant that listening to @bbcouch podcast was tricky for first half then good for second.

I'm wondering how much to promote this blog. I don't want to make people fed up with me but I don't want to look at the google analytics and realise that only my wife reads it (and Dan actually, make it two million). I'll try to update 5/6 times a week and perhaps mention it fortnightly. I'm looking forward to playing with the blog software too to see what exciting features it has.

Stay safe out there folks.

Made a friend

At the pool this morning.

I was overtaking a large man in the fast lane and suddenly felt a bump on my head. I looked up to see a woman looking at me where there had previously been no woman before (a siren? no, that would have made me crash into a rock and she wasn't singing). I apologised, she seemed to move off so I continued. When I got back she was waiting to accost me! Reapplying apology and turning the Hurst charm up to 11 I hoped she would be OK but no, I was due a telling off. I drew breath and stood by. Why was I going the wrong way? What was I thinking? She was bleeding on her head! It really hurt!

I told her I was overtaking, had looked up but didn't see anything and before I could describe the mix of shortsightedness with overtaking splashy man (and her being underwater from turn when I looked up I think on reflection) I was accused of not paying attention. I offered to look at her head to make sure she was OK but she didn't want to take her swimming hat off. I agreed that I should be more careful and proceeded on my way.

To find she was waiting for me again! Apparently I didn't swim up against the rope (this isn't quite true, I actually meander in the water which is a bit of a problem for me in open water but not to the extent of going into oncoming traffic) and that was why I had hit her. Add lying to my list of offenses folks.

I told her I would endeavor to stay in line and off I sploshed.

To be accosted again! Did I not know how much it hurt? No, I didn't, I have had worse collision, not always my fault with many other swimmers of all ages and sexes and never had this reaction. However I told her I had already apologised and that there was nothing else I could do and off I went. The next time she pounced I ignored her.
My question, dear reader, is at which point I should have told her to man up? She uses the pool at the same time as me each day so don't want to make an enemy but gosh what a reaction. My toddler is more hardy (though she is Hurst stock).

Every man should have a favourite pair of trousers

They're what set us apart from apes. What are yours?

I could do with some warm cycling trousers as my options are cycle shorts or tri suit at the moment. The last pair I owned were eaten.*  This stormy weather is not ideal at all and I only really have a functional road bike (other than the steering), the MTB from N's uncle is quite small and has a baby seat betwixt rider and handlebars. I'm not rushing out to buy them because I can keep my toes warm with the overshoes whilst my legs can man up and keep moving. I can cope with foul weather to an extent but I struggle to reconcile putting my life in the hands of cars who value getting to their destination 10 seconds faster over C having a Daddy.

So tonight I was on the turbo trainer, decent amount of time with some exhausting sections. The disappointing issue is that my Point Break DVD doesn't have subtitles as with toddler sleeping upstairs it has to be quite loud to be heard over the whirring of my exertions (weights, push ups, sit ups and ironing after bike).  She slept soundly however and I wasn't paying too much attention to the film. It demonstrates that it is a viable beasting option when I am IC toddler.

IC toddler is definitely and increasingly the state in which I will find myself as the Mark II arrives. I currently endeavour to utilise the park's equipment as an outdoor gym to the delight of children and bafflement of fellow responsibles. A challenge for me is going to be incorporating my time with C with other activities over this year. Ideas welcomed, though I do hope to do lots of walking bearing she in my Osprey Poco Premium whilst clad in my finest walking trousers (of which I'm extremely fond).

Whether lounge pants or jeans
Clean stone chinos or tartan troos
Regardless of state of seams
and garish or palatable hues
I'd argue to the death the importance
in judging any man's substance,
(its absense a profanation)
clear trouser prioritisation.

Which reminds me, I was once "corduroy invited" to a party and I regret not going.

*By the washing machine

Wet shorts

So yesterday was jolly fun, the wind, rain and darkness all made leaving the house a little bit more of an effort but I got to the pool eventually and this time resumed my place in the fast lane. I ploughed up and down whilst putting in a reasonable amount of effort but felt that I could sustain it for the time I had. Again, I was focusing more on making sure I was swimming properly and getting the time in rather than counting lengths but I'm feeling positive about it. Last year Dan called me up and put me on 3ish weeks notice to do the swim leg of a team triathlon. I had, prior to that, let my swim drop off somewhat so hit the pool and lake about 5 times a week in the run up and really boosted my swim. That concentrated improvement in swim seems to have left traces as I, for instance, use my legs for propelling me now rather than just for stabilising.

When I left the pool the weather had improved with my mood. Bright sunshine and glorious blue skies to tackle the traffic in Staines-upon-Thames.

At lunchtime I dropped my shorts in a puddle in the changing room\shower before putting them on. That was pleasant. I had resolved to do a loop of Datchet but once on the Long Walk (wet and blustery and so unlike the day before, it was almost lonely) I forgot and just carried on up to the Copper Horse again. There was so much rain that on the grass hill I did my Torval and Dean impression (I'm the size of both together). On the way back I could feel the wind giving me a little push but also coming in from the side. I wonder, can I capitalise on my breadth? Use my back as a sail? If I were to run straight at 90 degrees to the wind but have my back at 45 degrees to it how much thrust can I get? Something to be tested. It also gets me thinking how much jet propulsion I can capitalise upon from exhaling in the correct direction whilst swimming.

I had a quote from The Bike Company in Windsor (who I trust very much with my bike) for clearing out the headset on the Defy. Seems reasonable, just awaiting a second opinion from Iaim Neesom on if bits need to be replaced and what by before proceeding but looking forward to having a bike that doesn't make its own mind up on direction.

 I haven't fully explored the features of this blogging site yet, am looking forward to doing so. I nthe mean time keep reading folks, thanks.

Ironman Wales Sept 14th 2014 for Macmillan

I sit here blogging on the second day of January in the Year of Our Lord, Two Thousand and Fourteen.

My sights are set on the 14th September 2014.

Three years ago a literary masterpiece arose by the name of Beasting Blog. It was my fundraising effort to commemorate Dave Scrutton and raise money for the Sam Beare hospice (never did get a thanks from them other than quick mention on Facebook but oh well, good cause) and I was stunned to raise well over £3500. Thanks to those of you who contributed.

Beasting Blog was hosted on a website that I set up then, due to fatherhood, neglected for a short time, to find I had missed an email telling me it was being taken down and that anything I had blogged would be lost. Not since the burning of the Library of Alexandria has so much knowledge of the ages, wit and heritage been lost but we bust bear our grief with English stoicism. Even if you aren't English. There is lots to update you on since then but that can come later. I'm fitter and (surprisingly for those who have seen me lately) thinner than I was when I trained for the London triathlon and have a couple of extra months.

Today I headed to the pool after plenty of out-of-routine-faffing jumped into the medium lane and started swimming. I was doing a steady crawl and intended to do so till I had to get out. I noticed that in the fast lane some people would whizz past only to stop as they were either doing some speed work or are idiots (probably a 50/50 split today) but in the medium lane I had to overtake occasionally. I suddenly realised that I had raised the wrath of two ladies who were going slower than a lecture on why your hangover is your own fault. With furious fetle from their sedate sauntering stroke they would strike out into the lane to cut me off at any attempt to pass. Fast lane next time then.

Beasting 2 was a rather windy run up to the Copper Horse in Windsor Great Park, it was beautifully sunny though it was in my eyes so I ran with a more than usually anguished expression on my stunning face. I didn't time it but it was fun.

Anyway, welcome to Beasting Blog 2: The Beast With Two Backs.

Your tasks:
Enjoy the ride
Follow me here and on twitter @Geoffbeast
Donate at Just Giving: http://www.justgiving.com/GeoffHurst
Bet on how I do (and give to charity) here: http://tinyurl.com/nr3pmlr
Train with me!
Spread the word

Annoyingly I read a date from a letter that was incorrect so the betting site says it is on the 7th Sept. It isnt. Ignore it.

P.S. I have signed up to an Ironman.

P.P.S. Oh crap I have signed up to an Ironman

P.P.P.S More on the whole Ironaman and Macmillan charity thing next time.