Saturday, June 23, 2007

Brought back to earth

Good day faithful readers. Have you ever thought that you were particularly good at something, or at least would be good at something if you tried, but then had that theory put to the test and found that you had vastly overestimated your abilities. For example, you thought that you were fit, but then you brushed the crumbs off you stomach, got out of you lazy boy and before you had even taken a step found yourself gasping for breath.

This has never happened to me. Generally speaking I think that I'm going to be reasonably good at something, and then when I have a go am amazed to find out that I'm actually even better than I expected! That was up until the other day, when I tried orienteering...
I've always thought that I've possessed an almost supernatural sense of direction. Given a simple map or vague directions able to make my way to almost anywhere (kinda like Superman being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound). So, combined with my general fitness I thought that orienteering would be a great sport for me. One in which I would excel.
With this in mind I entered myself in a 10km orienteering event around Richmond Park and its surround, picked up my map, planned out my route and lined up at the start. Being a mass start with the first marker 500m away, virtually straight ahead, the race started off as a mad dash. I checked my timer at the first marker and set off after everyone else, assuming that they were taking the same route that I was planning... this was my first mistake! In the excitement I'd headed off on a western route rather than taking the northern route I was planning. After a little while I realised that I wasn't where I thought that I was, but continuing to trust everyone else I continued following, hoping that I would soon determine my location... this was my second mistake!

After following various different people (my third mistake... only ever follow a single person), I suddenly realised that I'd gone way past the second marker and was on my way to the third. Not wanting to look like I was completely lost I decided to continue forward and skip the second marker.

I found the third marker and decided to stop, take a breath, get my bearings and make sure that I found the fourth. Apparently I didn't stop long enough. I headed off and soon came across a road, which I was expecting, unfortunately, unbeknownst to me, it wasn't the road that I thought that it was. Fast forward 15 mins and I find myself wandering around the streets with absolutely no idea where I am!

Thankfully I soon came across another runner who was able to point out on the map where we were... I'd gone way past the fourth marker and was just about at the fifth, which was just on the other side of some bush land. I decided at that point that I may as well continue with only hitting the odd numbered markers and headed off toward the fifth. By the time I popped out of the bush land I'd deviated slightly, which meant I would need to run back a little way to get to the marker. I would then need to run back through the bush land to where I'd been in order to get to the sixth marker... or I could just go straight to the seventh marker, which was just around the corner from where I was standing. I'm ashamed to say I took the easy way out. I did however manage to find the seventh, eighth and ninth markers though, before heading to the finish, so that was something.

Anyway, despite the fact that I spent a large portion of my time being lost, despite the fact that it was raining and I was soaked through and despite the fact that my legs were itchy and red from having run through all manner of bushes, nettles etc, I had an excellent time and will definitely have to have another go... if for no other reason than I refuse to suck so badly at something that I should be good at!

posted by sam @ 5:20 pm 0 comments

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Tour of Wessex

Good day faithful readers. Last weekend I ventured over to Somerset for the long weekend to ride in the Tour of Wessex (3 day, 325mile bike ride). It was to be memorable for numerous reasons.

Firstly, and this is quite sad to say, it was the first time that I had been out of London (within the UK) over the year and a half that I've been in the country, for any reason other than work. Up until last weekend, every time that I had left London I had had at least one of my work colleagues to keep me company!

Secondly, it was the first time that I had driven a car on UK roads, and unfortunately I got to do a lot more driving than I had hoped to do...

I picked up my car Friday afternoon and drove over to the metropolis of Yeovil, in Somerset. It was a trip which should take about 2hours, but one which took me about 3 thanks to the fact that I convinced myself that I was supposed to be getting on the M4 instead of the M3, meaning that I had to cut across the countryside once I had realised my mistake. The mass of people leaving London for their long weekend didn't exactly help matters either I have to say. As a result I arrived shortly after 10pm, and after getting some dinner finally got to bed at 12, only to have my alarm go off 5hours later.

Saturday morning was glorious. Sun shining brightly, clear blue skies, no wind, little bit of chill in the air, perfect conditions for the first 100miles. Given that the longest ride that I'd done prior to this was 55miles I decided to take it easy to start with in order to conserve energy. My plans were thrown into disarray somewhat however when we got to the first major climb after only 20km. After the first 200m I found myself struggling along in bottom gear. "I hope this isn't planning on getting any steeper" I thought to myself, just before rounding a corner and seeing the road seemingly head straight upwards! Standing on the pedals I managed to get to the top, which is more than I can say for a lot of people who were already having to resort to walking.
Thankfully this was probably the steepest hill of the day, but it certainly wasn't the last. In fact I would suggest that there was only a very small percentage of the entire route that was actually flat. Despite my lack of training I seemed to cope with this much better than most, constantly passing people every time the road started heading skyward. My shoulders and neck started to get a little sore at about the 110km mark, but I powered to the finish, averaging 28.5km/h, feeling really good.

The next morning I jumped out of bed ready for another day of riding through the beautiful Somerset countryside. Then I looked through the window and saw that the heavens had opened and it was pouring with rain. Nevertheless, I packed all my stuff in the car and headed to the start line, ever hopefully that the clouds would part and the sun would shine through. It was not to be. Knowing that I had 200km to ride the following day, and not particularly wanting to go hurtling down twisting roads in the wet, I decided that I would pull out that day and go and visit Bath instead.

Monday morning I arose and tentatively looked out the window again. It wasn't raining, but it wasn't looking good either. On the way to the start it began to rain, and with the car's temperature gauge reading 5C it was looking less and less hopeful. Sitting there, eating cold porridge, on the verge of developing hypothermia, I decided to throw in the towel. Disappointed, I jumped in the car, turned up the heating and headed back to London.

posted by sam @ 8:20 pm 0 comments