Flood Running: Flunning.

Today was my first off-road run of 2013 and my first since a traumatic body-building workout with Robser Le Monster.

I decided to try a 10km route my dad showed me before I ran the Wycombe Half Marathon in 2011. So, to the sounds of Apocalyptic Love by Slash, I headed out into the chilly February evening.

After 2km, I was ready to go home; my knees hurt from sliding in the mud, my already painful spine was jarring with every step that landed in a hole, and the brambles were tearing at my arms.

It was about then I discovered the water. Yes, the water.

Unbeknownst to me, the River Thames is quite high at the moment about about a kilometre of my route had been flooded. When I say flooded, there were ducks and geese swimming across the fields. It was the first time I’ve ever wanted a camera on a run.

Turning back (or acting with any sense), however, is both tedious and lame. Thus, with the disturbingly green liquid lapping at my balls, I trudged on at a variety of paces from ‘adventurous stride’ to ‘pissed off wading’. At no point, luckily, did I have to swim. Things weren’t that bad.

The water cleared by around the 3km mark, but by 4km or 5km I was wondering why I was still running. Everything hurt. Apart from my lungs, which seems to be holding up.

Come 6km, however, I was back on a levle surface and had found my stride. By the time I hit 8km (running through a cemetary, I believe) I was on a high – I practically sprinted home, even finding the energy to sing along to the last few tracks of the album, hurdle occassional patches of flooded and nail a sprint finish up Abbey Road.

Overall, I clocked a bad time for under 11km. Then again, considering it was off-road and I had to wade through flood water for a a tenth of the route, I think I did OK.

The Same Run As Before. BUT TWICE!

Today, I decided that running 6km at a time was going to get me nowhere fast. Or rather, it would get me exactly 6km…and rather slowly. Useless. The only thing within a 3km radius of my house is Tesco Express and, if I want to go there, I’ll drive. For one thing, it is a petrol station and, for another, I can’t very well run with bags of over-priced shopping.

So instead, I decided to run 10km – a more respectable distance. Living in the land of hills, however, there is only so much flatish ground to run on, so I decided to run my fairly level 6km route, then do the initial 2km out and back again.

However, by the time I reached the 8km point I thought “…I’ve come this far…I may as well just do the whole route twice”. [That is a heavily edited version of my actual thoughts].

So that’s what I did.

In the process, I listened to the entire of Rammstein’s Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da (only 45 minutes long, I discovered!) and the first few songs off Reise Reise. In total, 65 minutes – not bad for an unfit buffoon running 12km.

All in all, it felt pretty good. There were a couple of tougher moments but, given that it was twice as far as the last couple of weeks, not bad. I mean, still pretty bad. But not as bad as I was expecting.

Adventurethon…

According to the Native American calendar, the 22nd of March will see the end of the Wolf Month and the start of the Month of the Falcon. Oh, it will also be two year to the day since I started this blog…

In honour of this tradition of naming months after kickass animals (as well as some disappointing animals like goose, beaver and salmon), I will have flown 10,000 miles to Townsville, Australia. There, I will be preparing to take part in the festival of awesomeness and multi-sport extravaganza known…as Adventurethon!

Held in what looks like paradise, Adventurethon is essentially an off-road, more badass version of a triathlon. It’s like a triathlon that can wear a bandanna without looking ridiculous and rides stunt motorcycles in its spare time, but doesn’t even bring that up in conversation.

I’m not saying Adventurethon can necessarily outfight a bear, simply by fixing it with a thousand-yard stare…but it has a better chance at that than a normal triathlon does. (The Month of the Bear is August 22 – September 21, by the way).

Instead of starting with a predictable old swim, for example, you kayak; 13km out into Horseshoe bay, where you complete a 4.2km circuit before racing 13km back again! When you’ve fallen out of your kayak and appealed to the Gods for strength, you then jump onto a bike…

Yet this isn’t a case of racing thin-tired road bikes along smooth tarmac roads; this is powering mountain bikes around Magnetic Island, along 29km of wetlands, dirt paths and mountain tracks – the Australian sun baking your helmeted head like an oversized, hairy egg!

Given the location, you could be forgiven for taking the strain off at this point and having a rest – perhaps even settling down for a picnic, or building a wooden hut so you never, ever have to leave…

BUT YOU WILL NOT, BECAUSE YOU ARE AN ADVENTURER!!

Instead, you complete the agonising cycle and, dropping your bike like the smouldering remains of your nemesis’ prized collection of tubular bells, you flee back into the island. This time a mere 16km through bitumen, sand and more rocky mountain trails, stands in your way…followed by another 2.4km of stumbling your way to Hawkings point lookout…where you pass out, knowing that you’ve done your duty as an Adventurer.

Of course, not everybody is capable of completing an event such of this magnitude and – luckily – they don’t have to! In the name of adventure, joy and inclusiveness (if that is a word), there are many versions of the event; from the full ULTRA-AVENTURETHON to the Dirty Duothon (no kayak) and the Taste of Adventurethon, and even a separate event just for those between the ages of 8 and 17! What’s more, each of the events can be undertaken alone, in a team or pretty much however you fancy!

I cannot think of a better ending point for Ed vs. Sport or a better starting point for the Chronicles of Adventure than this, most brilliant of triathlons. Exactly which event I will take part in…I’m not sure.

I’m not a good runner, have mountain biked exactly zero times in my life (I can ride a bike…so I assume I can ride a bike on a mountain) and my chances of learning to kayak on the Thames in Winter are slim to lethal.

Even so, I shall take part – FOR THE GUILD! (The Guild of Adventurers).

First Run of 2013!

Today, I went for a run. It way my first run since the Super Spartan race in September…which was my first run since the Spartan Sprint in July, which was also my first run since Tough Guy this time last year.

So, today saw my forth run in 12 months, bringing my total distance covered in a YEAR to approximately 40km. Impressive, no?

I ran slowly but, to my credit, the ground was covered in snow and the going was quite tough – slipping and sliding and hoping my knees wouldn’t collapse.

The first mile was pure terror and the taste of blood, but once my body worked out that it wasn’t under attack or fleeing for its life, it calmed down and I found my stride.

Unfortunately, my stride is quite short and unpredictable. This, combined with the snow and jumping in and out of the road to avoid cars, made for a longer run than expected on a freezing January morning.

Hopefully my legs will still work after boxing tonight.

LIKE A SAMURAI!

Today, I went back to my dojo for the first time in months, with one goal in mind – to figure out if my body can still move properly…

The good news is that yes, it seems to be functioning just fine after weeks of booze and food and general inactivity.

The bad news is that…erm…well, I suppose there isn’t really any bad news! This has been an entirely positive experience! I also turns out that, with a short run up, I can hop over things that come up to my nipples. Now I need to figure out how high I can jump with two legs, but that’s for another day.

Goodminton: Like Badminton, but Fun

Oh, by the way, I totally did some badminton! Apologies for not letting you know sooner, it slipped my mind because…well…it’s badminton.

I didn’t actually set out to play badminton that day (12.11.2012); I actually drove to Reading Climbing Centre with my brother to use their bouldering wall and level up our adventuring skills. Alas, it turned out the wall was closed for most the week, whilst they swapped all the routes around.

Having driven around Reading seeking alternative adventure, we eventually cut our losses and drove home, via Wycombe sports centre. There, we rented ourselves some equipment and a court, and went about playing the noble is somewhat silly sport of badminton.

Adventuring Skill: Climbing

Whether it be scaling a rock face to find a vantage point, descending into an abyss whilst hunting for treasure, or escaping up a tree or whilst being pursued by a wild boar, climbing is an invaluable skill for the freelance adventurer.

Luckily for me, there are plenty of climbing walls within an hour’s drive of my house. Also luckily for me, I know a wonderful man who knows how to climb and has agree to help teach me – Daz, of Caveman Press.

Unluckily for me, I am soon to turn 26, have limited experience of climbing and am not exactly built for the sport. Down at the climbing wall, you’ll struggle to find anybody who isn’t a middle aged veteran of 30 years, an obsessed young person who started at the age of 4, or a hollow-boned teenager who has yet to learn their physical limitations. And all of them are…wiry.

Yet the strength involved in this sport/skill is simply out of this world. Good climbers can, by PINCHING the tiniest protrusion (often with a single knuckle on just a few fingers), suspend themselves from the ground, whilst gracefully bringing their feet above their head and extending their other arm to snatch at another, equally invisible ‘hold’.

If I hadn’t seen people doing these things with my own eyes, I would be convinced that such acts are the stuff of myth and legend, or achievable by a select few. Yet feats like these seem relatively commonplace down in Reading, which leads me to conclude that soon I too will be gifted with monkey-like agility.

Until then, I shall bumble thusly:

Running the Super Spartan Race, Midlands 2012

Having noticed my blog was getting a bit text-heavy, I decided to wait a while for the photos from the Super Spartan, before writing an update.

However, is has now been nearly three weeks since we ran the course and not a single photo has surfaced. To be honest, this is entirely typical of the Spartan Race experience and I’ve decided to write this anyway, before I forget the event altogether.

A couple of months ago, Simon and I ran the Spartan Sprint, a 5km obstacle course. Although we weren’t expecting an epic challenge over 3 miles, we were still somewhat disappointed by what the Spartan Race organisers considered as “obstacles”.

So we decided to try again but, this time, we’d run the Super Spartan. Over twice as long as the Sprint and boasting 20+ obstacles, surely that would push us closer to our limits…

Rowing Lake Windermere

A long time ago, some people promised to take me out on the River Thames and give me lessons in the sport of rowing. Sadly, however, it never came to be.

Luckily, I happened to be in the Lake District over the weekend, so I decided to rent a rowing boat and row Lake Windermere instead. Granted, it’s not a proper Olympic rowing boat but, being big and wooden, it’s a lot harder to row and, therefore, probably counts more as a result.

So, with my trust adventuring friend, Simon, we struck out across Lake Windere, made it to a cool looking castle and then rowed back again. It wasn’t the mightiest row ever, but we spent a few hours doing it and, given how much it hurt, I’m 90% sure it totally counts!

Swimming England’s Highest Lake

As part of my Gold Challenge, I had to do some form of swimming. However, figuring that anybody could just walk down to their local pool, jump in and splash around for a bit, I wanted to do something a bit more interesting.

So I decided to do some open water swimming – to brace myself against the elements and currents and overcome then! But then, that didn’t seem entirely cool either… It just all seemed a little…pointless.

Much like running a lap or cycling a circuit – what’s the point in doing these things if you don’t actually achieve anything along the way? Why cycle 100 miles, to end up where you started, having done nothing but cycle along the way?

Instead, why not cycle to the source of the Thames and bottle the water? Why not cycle to Wales and watch the sunset over a mountain? Thus is was with swimming too; why leap into a pool and simply swim until you reach a predetermined time or distance? I understand it for training purposes, but not as an EVENT.

I therefore decided to swim ACROSS something. Something a bit cool. Something like the English Channel, Lake Windermere or the Hellespont. However, not really knowing how to swim or owning anything more suitable than some Billabong board shorts, I had to be realistic about my choices. I had to choose something pretty cool, but not something likely to kill me…

Something like the highest lake in all the land. In fact, why not the highest lake in all the land?!

So, friends, that’s what I did. Once again with trusty adventurer, Simon Lowe, we drove to Malham Tarn in the Yorkshire Dales, donned our ludicrously unsuitable swimming attire, and struck out across it.

It was…horrendous. Sure, getting in was the hardest part but, within moments of plunging into the icy waters and heading for the far side, my breathing was short and panicked, my strokes fast and stunted, and my hands and feet were going numb. By the time we reached the other side, our skin was red and burning. We’re still not sure why… [Edit: we have since learned that, as well as being a protected area, this is an acid lake…]

Then we swam back again.

It took a while for the feeling to come back into our toes and, for the rest of the day, we suffered a little from odd lung activity. Even so, we successfully crossed the lake and – though it was no huge distance – I wouldn’t have wanted to spend another moment in its freezing waters.

Cycling 100 Miles.

Back when I started this challenge, I decided to cycle 100 miles for the cycling element. How hard could it be, right? So, I made a plan:

Stage 1: Borrow a bike
Stage 2: Borrow a helmet
Stage 3: Put both in the garage, and leave to mature for 12 months
Stage 4: Cycle 100 miles

Frankly, the plan was bulletproof. Which, sadly, is more than can be said for my bicycle tires…

Madness? This is…SPARTAN RACE!!

Being Guildmaster of the Guild of Adventurers isn’t easy. I mean, if I’m not adventuring, who the hell is?! I am obliged, by the Gods of chaos, exploration and revelry, to pursue adventure as regularly as possible. This is a vow I have taken, by the light of the moon. So it must be – not matter what the situation, or how bad I feel.

So, it was with 7 hours’ sleep in 48 hours, a hangover 2 days in the making, and countless bruises from a bare knuckle night-sparring session that lasted from 02:30 – 05:30 a couple of nights earlier…that I made my way to the Spartan Race, in Reigate.

I was not alone, however! I was accompanied (and driven there) by none other than Master of Ceremonies, Simon ‘Bunn Slayer’ Lowe, known to the wise as the Grand Vizier of Murderbeers. Together, we navigated the bullshit that is English countryside driving and made our way to the scene of what promised to be utter madness…

Oh Yeah, Archery!

OK, I know it wasn’t specifically the Olympic version but, on my jousting day, I also spent a morning learning all about the history of archery and practising my hand at it.

Given that not a single archery club has responded to my requests to try their sport, I’m going to go ahead and say that my morning of target practise and archery competitions totally counts towards Ed vs Sport. Although I didn’t win the competition (who could shoot a stick (yes, a stick) stuck in the ground the most times), I did manage to come second out of eight or nine of us, so I think I did fairly well.

Or at least..less badly than some of the others…

So, at the risk of undermining everything else I have done for the Gold Challenge, I’m happy to say I’ve ticked the archery box! I mean seriously, if I’d gone to an Olympic style class, I’d have just been given a more complicated bow, which essentially tells me when to release the string. Let’s keep things simple – medieval, even.

Jousting. You Heard Me. Jousting.

As part of my Gold Challenge, I am required to do a horse-based event. Given that I don’t know how to ride a horse, however, that pretty much limits me to dressage…or something equally…well…y’know.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. Horse riding can damn cool. CAN BE damn cool. The stuff I see in the Olympics, however…let’s just say it isn’t me. Still, I did agree to try as many of these sports as possible. As a compromise, therefore, I decided to saddle up, but try something a little more badass…like jousting.

Oh, did I mentioned I’m also allergic to horses?

Training for the Three Peaks

As Champion of Murderbeers, my responsibilities are vast ‎and never-ending. Quash a rebellion here, fend off the Ice Giants there; if it’s not killing one thing, it’s conquering another.

So, when the Emperor looked out from Murder Mount and realised that England, Scotland and Wales ALL have taller mountains than he does…he ordered me to go and claim them for Murderbeers. So that’s what I’m going to do.

Luckily, I won’t be going alone. The Grand Vizier made the mistake of sneering with glee when I was ordered out into the sodden wastelands of the United Kingdom, so the Emperor has sent him along with me! Together, we will trudge 26 miles of muddy path, ascend 10,000 feet of cold stone and drive 1000 miles of tedious motorway, to claim the Three Peaks in the name of Murderbeers!

However, even we – Murderbeers Fight Squad – aren’t foolish enough to attempt the Three Peaks without training. We all know mountains are essentially just large rocks, or collections of smaller stones. To overcome them, therefore, we n need to train ourselves to conquer rocks…

So we slapped on some rock n’ roll and practised lifting Atlas Stones. Perhaps we’ll lift the sky…

Time Off.

After much…doing of things, I have decided to take a week off to drink and sleep. I have chosen Portugal as the location for my drinking and sleeping.

Of course, I’m not really very good and doing nothing. Luckily, nor is my dad! As such, I’m confident there will be running, football and feats of general sporting prowess!

Huzzah! See you on the other side!

At the Olympic Stadium

As I write is, I am standing just outside the Olympic Stadium for the London 2012 Games…waiting to walk inside and run the 100m.

How exactly I have ended up here is unclear. I do, however, know it involved dozens of generous people, all of whom I can’t thank enough for everything they have donated to this cause. Whether it was the sports themselves, the blog or the Tough Guy race that inspired you to donate, it a goes to the same great cause.

Hup! The Art of Jumping!

As part of the Gold Challenge, I have to do some gymnastics. Officially, they want me to do trampolining, but it’s just not as easy as you might think to find a nearby trampolining club that is also happy to let hairy, angry-looking men stroll in and ‘have a try’.

Instead, therefore, I set myself the challenge of going to gymnastics classes and learning to do a back flip. Or a back somersault. Or whatever the official name of that move is – the crazy one, where you’re almost certainly going to land on your head. (I believe it’s called a back tuck).

Luckily, the people down at the Wycombe Judo Centre have taught more people to do back somersaults than I have eaten steaks so, within an hour, they had me spinning around in mid-air!

If you don’t believe me (because I am generally inept at most things), I managed to catch one semi-successful jump on camera. It wasn’t my best one, but alas I was a bit busy landing on my face over and over and over again to have the camera set up the whole time.

Ne-Waza: Ju-Don’t Know What You’re In For…

Judging by the bruises, welts and patches of raw skin covering my arms today, it’s fairly obvious that I did judo last night.  Don’t get me wrong though – it was a massive amount of fun!

The aim of judo is to throw, take down or immobilise your opponent, or make them submit using joint locks and strangle holds.  The class I attended was ground work (ne-waza) at Wycombe Judo Centre, so we focused on holding people down on their backs or making them tap out.

We started by learning  a few moves; a couple of ways to spin somebody onto their back from their hands and knees (for all those lovers out there) and an armbar from full guard (for those wannabe lovers out there, who could benefit from a little more persuasive power).

En Garde!

Firstly – for the sake of accuracy – my stance in this picture is not en garde. It is the cool and far more effective stab-le-camera stroke, of myth and fable. I am one of only 17 people in England to have mastered this attack in the last 300 years, one of whom was Sir Richard Francis Burton (aka the Ruffian Dick), who has become a particular hero of mine.

Secondly, I’ve totally did some fencing last night! It is, by far, the most confusing sport I’ve tried to date. Everything is backwards!