Friday, 22 November 2013

Scaling new heights. Or depths. Or something.

You know those nights when you should have gone to bed instead of messing about on the laptop?

The times when what started as playful banter turned into a more serious discussion?

The days when a vague recollection of having said something to someone at some stage about 'joining in' or 'taking part' or 'count on me' come back to slap you in the face?

Yes? Good. That's what happened. Over a period of, hmmm... *counts* ... twelve hours.

In the space of a glass of wine too many, a surreal set of instant messages via Facebook with two other individuals (one in Manchester, one in Canada of all places), and a good deal of rather rash decision-making, we came to a conclusion.

We have signed up to do a marathon.

Next September.

Yes, as in 2014.

I know, I know, I can hear you asking, "What's the big deal? You are always going on about training with the Moose and the RP Fit Club lads, it should be a doddle!"

Uhmm. No.

LCM has never run a marathon (laundry marathon, yes; running 26.2 miles marathon, no).
Heather has never run a marathon (quote: "There are 38 weeks between now and beginning of September. That's plenty of time, right?"). 
Dara has never run a marathon (quote: "You know I know I can WALK 26 miles. Worst comes to worst... I'll see you guys in a few hours.").

So we have entered the only marathon that makes it, well, worth our while.
On all fronts.
Cue the list:

  • easy access - check
  • picturesque - check
  • not too hilly - check
  • not too warm - check
  • well organised - check
  • fancy dress - check
  • drinking - check

Re the last point: if that seems 'obvious', think again.
When we say drinking, we actually mean 'wine tasting at the water stations'.

Yup. The marathon in question takes place in a vineyard.
Water is optional.


And the cut-off time within which to finish is eight hours.

We might just have completed our 'sampling' by then.

And finished the marathon. In some state or other.


Thursday, 14 November 2013

Dispensing justice

A picture says a thousand words.

LCM dispenses justice after receiving yet another
incomprehensible rambling email


Friday, 8 November 2013

Dear Cold Callers

Guess what?

Just because I have answered the home phone number does not mean I am happy to take your call.

And just because I *am* at home does not mean I have nothing to do (aside from dossing around on Facebook, reading and commenting on some very funny blog posts, and resisting the temptation to buy even more training kit).

And since you didn't ask (because you obviously forgot) let me tell you that I am very busy trying to figure out the format for a really important presentation for a client to their operating committee (that's the big wigs who call the shots, in case you were wondering).

In fact, I am that overloaded with 'brain fry-up' (a new term, just invented, will copyright shortly) that you were lucky to even have me answer the phone in the first place as between getting fresh air to clear my head - thanks to the Moose and the RP Fit Club lads - and finally showering and changing out of my filthy training kit, I have become particularly adept at sitting and staring at my Mac for hours on end. And not answering the phone full stop. Because that would entail getting up and my arms and legs are quite grateful for some respite, thank you very much.

Anyway. I digress.

My point is, if you are going to call, then can you please ensure at the very least that you make it clear whence you are calling from, never mind why (which you never clarified either, by the way)?

Because after my third attempt to understand who the bloody hell 'Widipidiya' was, I could almost forgive you for hanging up on me.

As it is, I win.

LCM - 1
Virgin Media - 0


Friday, 1 November 2013

Trade offs

Not so long ago I mentioned in passing about the lovely lads from Rugby Pro Fit Club.

I also mentioned about a 'trade-off' going on and hinted at a future post that would give more insight.

This is that post.

During the summer months some of the rugby premiership players run skills and coaching camps for the kids. Typically this would entail a) leaving the children with responsible qualified coaches and trainers, b) sneaking off to the club house to indulge in a quick pint, and c) reappearing at 'finish' time suitably refreshed and relaxed.

Sometimes that worked. Other times it didn't. And when it didn't it was because the adults were set some of the same challenges as the children.

Challenges such as:
- how many sit-ups can you do in a minute (answer: lying on the ground is much more pleasant)
- how many press-ups can you do before collapsing (I still suffer after-effects of broken wristitis)
- how many burpees can you perform before your knees give way (or your back, or your legs...)

Anyway. Point is, I missed out on a couple of the sessions. Possibly one of the harder ones too, judging by my mate MAC:

Well, I thought I was being funny. Until this came through:

Thus the gauntlet was thrown down.

Fast forward to more recently. In exchange for helping the lads refine their business plans and go-to-market strategy, I am getting some extra PT sessions thrown in (extra because there is always the Moose, of course).

Today? It started with a question.

RPFitClub - "Have you ever done German one hundreds?"
LCM - "What? What is that? Like saying 'Vun hundret' vit a German ax-cent?" *

I don't even get an answer. I get 'the stare'. Uh oh.

Further fast forward to this afternoon. 
A text.
"How are the arms?"

My reply: "Arms are dying. Will be using a straw to drink my tea at this rate. Just as well I can use my nose for typing."

And writing blog posts, of course.

* more accurately termed as German Volume Training: 10 sets (of an exercise), 10 reps (that's ten times). Yes, really. Times a lot of different exercises. Involving arms, in my case *sigh*


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