A large jump in the volume of unique visitors to the blog site is down to its addition to the official Cape Epic website.
Clearly the competition are researching the Epic Caper Team Scotland!
Be afraid, the Posse is training hard.
Showing posts with label Cape epic 2010. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cape epic 2010. Show all posts
Monday, 23 November 2009
Thursday, 8 October 2009
The Outlaw.....
Well this is not the story of my criminal past and I'm not in need of the Duracell's legal talent.
The Cape Epic will be done and dusted by the end of March next year and I know that I'll be kicking my heels at the end of the race. I'm the sort of bloke that needs a target, usually a big target and post Cape Epic I will be the same.
I was pottering about the internet and thinking about entering Ironman UK next year. Ironman branded races are brilliantly organised and come with the logo. They are not however the only Ironman distance triathlon events and there is a new non Ironman branded long distance triathlon in Nottingham called the Outlaw.
The Outlaw sounds like my kind of race - I'm not stuck on the IM label so I've decided to give this one a go. Moonwalker has kindly offered to make it my birthday present and I'm really pleased. She did mention that there are not many people that would be happy with a present that you have to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles and then run a marathon to collect! That doesn't include the training....
My legs finally feel like normal today. I'm going to spin and run in the morning to test the recovery. I'm hoping that things will get back to normal quickly. I've missed not training this week.
I watched a programme tonight about 4 biggish ladies who were trained by the British cycling team in an effort to lose weight. It wasn't so much training based but seemed to be mind based. I'm pretty convinced that most things are played in the mind. Obviously for sports you need to put in the training and have the necessary skills but a strong mind will get you through many challenges. I have challenges with my eating patterns in that I love cakes and sweet stuff. The pyscologist on the show talked about the inner chimp - I must have an inner ape!!
Looking forward to getting out on the bike this weekend....
The Cape Epic will be done and dusted by the end of March next year and I know that I'll be kicking my heels at the end of the race. I'm the sort of bloke that needs a target, usually a big target and post Cape Epic I will be the same.
I was pottering about the internet and thinking about entering Ironman UK next year. Ironman branded races are brilliantly organised and come with the logo. They are not however the only Ironman distance triathlon events and there is a new non Ironman branded long distance triathlon in Nottingham called the Outlaw.
The Outlaw sounds like my kind of race - I'm not stuck on the IM label so I've decided to give this one a go. Moonwalker has kindly offered to make it my birthday present and I'm really pleased. She did mention that there are not many people that would be happy with a present that you have to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles and then run a marathon to collect! That doesn't include the training....
My legs finally feel like normal today. I'm going to spin and run in the morning to test the recovery. I'm hoping that things will get back to normal quickly. I've missed not training this week.
I watched a programme tonight about 4 biggish ladies who were trained by the British cycling team in an effort to lose weight. It wasn't so much training based but seemed to be mind based. I'm pretty convinced that most things are played in the mind. Obviously for sports you need to put in the training and have the necessary skills but a strong mind will get you through many challenges. I have challenges with my eating patterns in that I love cakes and sweet stuff. The pyscologist on the show talked about the inner chimp - I must have an inner ape!!
Looking forward to getting out on the bike this weekend....
Saturday, 19 September 2009
Bigman Mountain Man....
It was a grey start in Fife. I met the Bigman at our usual corner and we set off towards Dunning. It was going to be a day of many hills. Many many hills.
As we climbed towards Knockhill, we chatted through our relative weeks, mine involved the theft of my identity, my new laptop, wallet, iPod etc etc - it was a disaster. I can only hope the poor soul who stole my identity makes a better effort of it than me!!!!
Anyway the climb up knockhill gave the first indication of the day that followed. Bigman led the way and I was dropped off the back. The pelaton was not it's usual size with only 2 of us making the trip. I didn't notice much difference from normal but every time the Bigman got in his stride I fell off the back. I assumed that the Bigman's extra training was paying dividents and felt inspired to let him know that he was 'the man' on the hills. Later in the trip he queried why I was dropping back because we weren't climbing exceptionally quickly. This worried me a little. I think training, like in life, you have good and bad days. Today was just a bad day at the office. Don't get me wrong not an entirely bad day at the office becuase we covered 90km at a reasonable speed.
We climbed up the hill to Dunning, me in the wake of the man mountain, and as we reached the top enjoyed the first glimpse of the autumn sunshine.Given we were both in full winter kit we were both operating above temperature...
In Dunning we met the Balingary Bikers. They were half way round the opposite route. We stopped and shared a few stories before setting off to climb the beast. We were reliably informed by the Fit One that this was the climb made famous by the Milk Race whenever the Milk Race was run.
It starts fairly gently before kicking up vertically and heading for the heavens. It's steep, very steep. You start nervously glancing down at the back ring of the big only to realise that you are already on the granny gear. The hill is unrelenting, uncompromising and the toughest bit of road I know. We climbed silently, well apart from the sound of heavy breathing. A high five welcomed us to the top. It had been a great climb.
The hills don't stop here though and continue for the next 6 miles until you drop down into the valley that is home to Milnathort. A quick chat and Loch Leven's Larder was the coffee venue. We arrived tired and happy. I fear that the arrival of 2 sweaty bikers might not be target market to which the Larder aspires but nevertheless we were welcomed enjoyed our carrot cake and scone before setting off home.
Cleish seemed a mear pimple after the hills we had climbed.
We reached the hill at the bus museum. I bided my time. I had after all lulled the Bigman into a false sense of security. I waited and waited. Just a few metres from the top I went for it. A big YeHa as a arrived on his shoulder and nudged past. But it was all in vein as the bigman managed to grab enough centimetres ahead to claim the victory. He had been ready and was geared up for my eventually doomed but carefully planned assalt at the King of the Mountains. He was a mountain man today. The hills were too small and the climbing looked easy. He is in awesome form at the moment.
The breeze home was a nice wind down to what had been a fantastic day out.
Night training was discussed and car deserted roads seem he place to head. We're on a mission to tame the Epic. Derek's ahead in terms of strength and fitness but I'm going to get stuck in and will get there in great shape. Weighed in at 13 st 10 lb which is not bad given my weakness to beer and chocolate in Belgium!
As we climbed towards Knockhill, we chatted through our relative weeks, mine involved the theft of my identity, my new laptop, wallet, iPod etc etc - it was a disaster. I can only hope the poor soul who stole my identity makes a better effort of it than me!!!!
Anyway the climb up knockhill gave the first indication of the day that followed. Bigman led the way and I was dropped off the back. The pelaton was not it's usual size with only 2 of us making the trip. I didn't notice much difference from normal but every time the Bigman got in his stride I fell off the back. I assumed that the Bigman's extra training was paying dividents and felt inspired to let him know that he was 'the man' on the hills. Later in the trip he queried why I was dropping back because we weren't climbing exceptionally quickly. This worried me a little. I think training, like in life, you have good and bad days. Today was just a bad day at the office. Don't get me wrong not an entirely bad day at the office becuase we covered 90km at a reasonable speed.
We climbed up the hill to Dunning, me in the wake of the man mountain, and as we reached the top enjoyed the first glimpse of the autumn sunshine.Given we were both in full winter kit we were both operating above temperature...
In Dunning we met the Balingary Bikers. They were half way round the opposite route. We stopped and shared a few stories before setting off to climb the beast. We were reliably informed by the Fit One that this was the climb made famous by the Milk Race whenever the Milk Race was run.
It starts fairly gently before kicking up vertically and heading for the heavens. It's steep, very steep. You start nervously glancing down at the back ring of the big only to realise that you are already on the granny gear. The hill is unrelenting, uncompromising and the toughest bit of road I know. We climbed silently, well apart from the sound of heavy breathing. A high five welcomed us to the top. It had been a great climb.
The hills don't stop here though and continue for the next 6 miles until you drop down into the valley that is home to Milnathort. A quick chat and Loch Leven's Larder was the coffee venue. We arrived tired and happy. I fear that the arrival of 2 sweaty bikers might not be target market to which the Larder aspires but nevertheless we were welcomed enjoyed our carrot cake and scone before setting off home.
Cleish seemed a mear pimple after the hills we had climbed.
We reached the hill at the bus museum. I bided my time. I had after all lulled the Bigman into a false sense of security. I waited and waited. Just a few metres from the top I went for it. A big YeHa as a arrived on his shoulder and nudged past. But it was all in vein as the bigman managed to grab enough centimetres ahead to claim the victory. He had been ready and was geared up for my eventually doomed but carefully planned assalt at the King of the Mountains. He was a mountain man today. The hills were too small and the climbing looked easy. He is in awesome form at the moment.
The breeze home was a nice wind down to what had been a fantastic day out.
Night training was discussed and car deserted roads seem he place to head. We're on a mission to tame the Epic. Derek's ahead in terms of strength and fitness but I'm going to get stuck in and will get there in great shape. Weighed in at 13 st 10 lb which is not bad given my weakness to beer and chocolate in Belgium!
Saturday, 12 September 2009
The strange case of the Brussels sprout .....
I was out on my long run today - Loch Ness marathon is getting ever closer so I felt the need to get out there and run.
I had an early start. Up and about by 6.45am on a weekend is unusual if not unheard of but when you are away for the weekend probably inexcusable. We arrived in Brussels yesterday. A fantastic city and more than we had expected. Dinner last night was fabulous having uneathered a mystical, dark and romantic restaurant in the centre of town.
I'm not sure if it was the house wine that woke me early - advertised as a sauvignon but turned up disguised as a chardonnay. Anyway it was half six and I was awake. The mission for the next 10 minutes of pasting on anti chafe cream, remembering water and ipod etc etc was not to wake moonwalker. Mission failed on that front sadly but she pretended to sleep anyway!
Fully loaded with a bunch of good songs I set off. We're staying in the Sheraton. Nice if a wee bit tired hotel very centrally located in town. I set off passing the street cleaners, the remant party goers and the odd tourist (probably American and jet lagged) wandering the streets. I set off down to the canel area constantly checking the approximate position of the hotel. It's next top a very tall building that you can see from time to time as you wander the city so I always felt confident that I'd find my way back.
I reached the canel and turned the wrong way - within 800m I was stuffed by industrial fencing blocking my route. I turned and headed back the opposite way. The run along the canel was fasinating as I watched the early morning barges going about there daily business. They all seemed to have cars on the back. Not cheap cars but Audi's and BMW's - there must be money in owning a barge. The old city is surrounded by a ring road so I figures as long as I stayed inside it I wouldn't ever be more than a few miles from the hotel.
I turned when the canel met the ring road and headed back towards town. It was then I my mind drifted to brussel sprouts. Why are they called brussel sprouts. I have no idea and spent a few miles wondering how the name had been created. I still don't know but am sure the internet will dig up the answer.
My dreams of brussel sprouts were interupted by gangsters. I'm not sure what was going on but 3 gansta type people (dressed in black suits, black shirts and loads of gold) were haranging 2 guys. Maybe one of them had borrowed money to buy said sprouts and was due top pay it back, or maybe too much time smoking/snorting sprouts I don't know but I was glad I was running. I Picked up the tempo, caught a glance of the hotel and headed back at full speed.
1 hour elapsed and I'd made it back to the hotel. Good news. So I started off again on the same route. Brussels is flat. Very flat and I suppose to that end I could have used my second last long run to include a few more hills. Now you would have thought that I would be able to follow the same route and arrive back at the hotel easily. I'd managed it once. Sadly not to be.
Lost in Brussels. I was running around, in the wrong direction before I looked behind me to glimpse the high rise building next to our hotel. I turned and with a soring in my step headed back once more. Now the dilema. I had about 5km left to make up the distance.
Up to the 30th floor and onto the running machine (a gansta free zone) and polished off my 27/28km run. Chuffed. We've subsequently walked a further 15km so I reckon I've done a marathon today.
We're going to Bruge tomorrow and then I'm off to Namur for a conference. I was speaking to my father about Namur when he surpised me by saying he'd been there before. I hadn't know that. When was that I enquired. 1945 he replied. He'd landed on gold beach in Normandy and made his way up through northern France into Belgium.
I wonder what memories our conversation dragged up......
I had an early start. Up and about by 6.45am on a weekend is unusual if not unheard of but when you are away for the weekend probably inexcusable. We arrived in Brussels yesterday. A fantastic city and more than we had expected. Dinner last night was fabulous having uneathered a mystical, dark and romantic restaurant in the centre of town.
I'm not sure if it was the house wine that woke me early - advertised as a sauvignon but turned up disguised as a chardonnay. Anyway it was half six and I was awake. The mission for the next 10 minutes of pasting on anti chafe cream, remembering water and ipod etc etc was not to wake moonwalker. Mission failed on that front sadly but she pretended to sleep anyway!
Fully loaded with a bunch of good songs I set off. We're staying in the Sheraton. Nice if a wee bit tired hotel very centrally located in town. I set off passing the street cleaners, the remant party goers and the odd tourist (probably American and jet lagged) wandering the streets. I set off down to the canel area constantly checking the approximate position of the hotel. It's next top a very tall building that you can see from time to time as you wander the city so I always felt confident that I'd find my way back.
I reached the canel and turned the wrong way - within 800m I was stuffed by industrial fencing blocking my route. I turned and headed back the opposite way. The run along the canel was fasinating as I watched the early morning barges going about there daily business. They all seemed to have cars on the back. Not cheap cars but Audi's and BMW's - there must be money in owning a barge. The old city is surrounded by a ring road so I figures as long as I stayed inside it I wouldn't ever be more than a few miles from the hotel.
I turned when the canel met the ring road and headed back towards town. It was then I my mind drifted to brussel sprouts. Why are they called brussel sprouts. I have no idea and spent a few miles wondering how the name had been created. I still don't know but am sure the internet will dig up the answer.
My dreams of brussel sprouts were interupted by gangsters. I'm not sure what was going on but 3 gansta type people (dressed in black suits, black shirts and loads of gold) were haranging 2 guys. Maybe one of them had borrowed money to buy said sprouts and was due top pay it back, or maybe too much time smoking/snorting sprouts I don't know but I was glad I was running. I Picked up the tempo, caught a glance of the hotel and headed back at full speed.
1 hour elapsed and I'd made it back to the hotel. Good news. So I started off again on the same route. Brussels is flat. Very flat and I suppose to that end I could have used my second last long run to include a few more hills. Now you would have thought that I would be able to follow the same route and arrive back at the hotel easily. I'd managed it once. Sadly not to be.
Lost in Brussels. I was running around, in the wrong direction before I looked behind me to glimpse the high rise building next to our hotel. I turned and with a soring in my step headed back once more. Now the dilema. I had about 5km left to make up the distance.
Up to the 30th floor and onto the running machine (a gansta free zone) and polished off my 27/28km run. Chuffed. We've subsequently walked a further 15km so I reckon I've done a marathon today.
We're going to Bruge tomorrow and then I'm off to Namur for a conference. I was speaking to my father about Namur when he surpised me by saying he'd been there before. I hadn't know that. When was that I enquired. 1945 he replied. He'd landed on gold beach in Normandy and made his way up through northern France into Belgium.
I wonder what memories our conversation dragged up......
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
Bigman's gone mad.....
The plan was to meet up for an hour. The day looked promising. The sun shone all morning and it was looking good for our 2pm rendevous to take on the Carnock Epic course....
I got up early and jumped onto the treadmill - it's great having one in the house cos you can run in whatever you fancy - today it was my boxers. Not got the physique of a greek olympic athlete....yet! So with my interval session done I headed off to the office knowing that I'd get out later on the bike. Intervals are where you alternate between fast and steady pace to raise your heart rate and increase performance.
As I mentioned it was muggy and warm - good news. The bad news came at about 1:30 - rain - not just any old rain but heavy downpours of the stuff. Bit a mixed summer so far. I wonder what has happened to the promised scorcher! So I called the bigman and suggested that we delay. I suppose I wimped out, a pathetic effort from one who is aiming to take on the Cape epic next year.
No wimping for the bigman - he stormed out on the knockhill loop in the rain. The weather is no barrier to a man on a mission. Given the sheer quality of the downfall including some lovely thunder and lightning (Although that may have been the big(mad)man blasting through Carnock in Back to the Future stylie!) I was stunned he set off. Mind you, he's so fit he probably was able to dodge the rain!
Tomorrow's a new opportunity and I plan another run - a steady tempo session and a spin set on the bike.
The back wheel has been delivered to the shop for a new (aero dynamic) spoke and I ordered a new Shimano compact chainset for the Trek. I don't think it will make a huge difference but it might make me think I'm better on the hills....
I finally weighed myself post holiday and I'm under 14 st and given the number of cakes I ate in Brittany some sort of miracle has occurred! Croissants must be a weight loss aid after all.....
I got up early and jumped onto the treadmill - it's great having one in the house cos you can run in whatever you fancy - today it was my boxers. Not got the physique of a greek olympic athlete....yet! So with my interval session done I headed off to the office knowing that I'd get out later on the bike. Intervals are where you alternate between fast and steady pace to raise your heart rate and increase performance.
As I mentioned it was muggy and warm - good news. The bad news came at about 1:30 - rain - not just any old rain but heavy downpours of the stuff. Bit a mixed summer so far. I wonder what has happened to the promised scorcher! So I called the bigman and suggested that we delay. I suppose I wimped out, a pathetic effort from one who is aiming to take on the Cape epic next year.
No wimping for the bigman - he stormed out on the knockhill loop in the rain. The weather is no barrier to a man on a mission. Given the sheer quality of the downfall including some lovely thunder and lightning (Although that may have been the big(mad)man blasting through Carnock in Back to the Future stylie!) I was stunned he set off. Mind you, he's so fit he probably was able to dodge the rain!
Tomorrow's a new opportunity and I plan another run - a steady tempo session and a spin set on the bike.
The back wheel has been delivered to the shop for a new (aero dynamic) spoke and I ordered a new Shimano compact chainset for the Trek. I don't think it will make a huge difference but it might make me think I'm better on the hills....
I finally weighed myself post holiday and I'm under 14 st and given the number of cakes I ate in Brittany some sort of miracle has occurred! Croissants must be a weight loss aid after all.....
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
A bit of cross training...
Of the Cape Epic team the bigman is the footballer - a bulldozer going forward at speed with good ball control. Chopper Harris at the back - nothing goes past him....
I got a call this morning from a mate who was one short for tonight's game. I actually think his real motivation was to get a lift to the game and I was the only driver available. It was a fab evening in Dalgety Bay and the game kicked off in the late afternoon sun - I felt like a Brazilian in the world cup final except I was wearing a Caley Thistle top.
Our team's defence was tested early. Failed miserably as one of the young, gifted opposition ghosted past most of our team before belting the ball in the top corner. A breakaway brought the equaliser. The game moved into a midfield battle - few chances, lots of tackles and not much of a spectacle for the passing stray cats. Then the game burst into life and we were 3 down.
The old legs were grinding to a halt - passing the ball became key for our team as we tired in the continental sun. We got one back, then another and another. All square couple of minutes to go. Our keeper, who had a hip injury, rolled the ball out to our central defender. I made a deft run into space and the ball zipped into my feet. One touch and it was out to the right wing. I turned and ran into space on the right hand side, the ball was slid back to me and like the great Ronaldo with one touch again I passed to a runner in the centre of the pitch. With vision, he completed a beautiful pass to the left winger who picked the ball up and crossed it in to the box. I had continued my run. The net was bulging in my mind as I met the ball with a crisp volley. Sadly, I missed. A few inches lower and it would of been goal of next season but that's football.
To rub salt in the wound, they ran up the park and scored the winner.
Gutted, sick as a parrott and taking it a game at a time.....
On the way home I saw the Bigman's biking partner from last Monday out for a run. We had briefly discussed his alias when were out on Tuesday and I think agreed he shall be named Marathon Man. He is an exceptional marathon runner. When I bumped into Marathon Man tonight he was living up to his alias building up a head of steam on a training run round the streets of Dunfermline. He's a fast runner, did an exceptional time in completing last year's Edinburgh Marathon and an inspiration for plodders like myself.
Hopefully get out on the bike tomorrow....
I got a call this morning from a mate who was one short for tonight's game. I actually think his real motivation was to get a lift to the game and I was the only driver available. It was a fab evening in Dalgety Bay and the game kicked off in the late afternoon sun - I felt like a Brazilian in the world cup final except I was wearing a Caley Thistle top.
Our team's defence was tested early. Failed miserably as one of the young, gifted opposition ghosted past most of our team before belting the ball in the top corner. A breakaway brought the equaliser. The game moved into a midfield battle - few chances, lots of tackles and not much of a spectacle for the passing stray cats. Then the game burst into life and we were 3 down.
The old legs were grinding to a halt - passing the ball became key for our team as we tired in the continental sun. We got one back, then another and another. All square couple of minutes to go. Our keeper, who had a hip injury, rolled the ball out to our central defender. I made a deft run into space and the ball zipped into my feet. One touch and it was out to the right wing. I turned and ran into space on the right hand side, the ball was slid back to me and like the great Ronaldo with one touch again I passed to a runner in the centre of the pitch. With vision, he completed a beautiful pass to the left winger who picked the ball up and crossed it in to the box. I had continued my run. The net was bulging in my mind as I met the ball with a crisp volley. Sadly, I missed. A few inches lower and it would of been goal of next season but that's football.
To rub salt in the wound, they ran up the park and scored the winner.
Gutted, sick as a parrott and taking it a game at a time.....
On the way home I saw the Bigman's biking partner from last Monday out for a run. We had briefly discussed his alias when were out on Tuesday and I think agreed he shall be named Marathon Man. He is an exceptional marathon runner. When I bumped into Marathon Man tonight he was living up to his alias building up a head of steam on a training run round the streets of Dunfermline. He's a fast runner, did an exceptional time in completing last year's Edinburgh Marathon and an inspiration for plodders like myself.
Hopefully get out on the bike tomorrow....
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Cross training.
Summer has begun in Fife. Temperature's soaring and the finest of Fife tattoo's are all out for inspection!
No biking for the bigman today. A rest day. Has the world stopped turning?
I decided that it was time to give the achilles a wee run out. It has been a problem since I did the Alloa half marathon in March. My physio kicked off the recovery with some excellent work that got me mobile again and since then I've started back out plodding the stunning countryside that surrounds the village. West Fife is vastly under-rated but in my view it is a fine place to live.
So my run extended to all of 3 and a bit miles. The achilles survived and gives me hope that I'm well on the way to full recovery. I was supposed to be running the Edinburgh Marathon which is at the end of May but sadly that was canned by the injury.
Sadly the Fit One and Santiago are both out for Skye due to other commitments leaving the bigman and myself to fly the colours of the Gillespie Road Wheelers. I understand that a separate, more attractive, tour is departing to Arran the same weekend as the trip to Skye. We wish them well on the Tour de Arran and eagerly await to find out who will be wearing the yellow jersey!
I'm sure we'll all come back with some great stories.
The bigman plans a wee run out tomorrow and I might join him if work permits.
My thoughts have turned to what I'll wear for the Skye Sportive. Seemingly unimportant choice unless you're an overweight 45 year old biker. Every race whether biking, running or triathlon I'm the fat, round one lurking around in unfeasibly tight lycra - I hate it! At the Ironman the majority of triathletes are racing snakes. On the move and in the pack I feel ok because sometimes I can beat a snake or two but on the whole I would like to join the racing snake class and not stick out or have bits sticking out of my top.
The bigman is shrinking. I'm not. It might be time to say goodbye to Gu Puddings, cakes, chocolate and the odd beer but then there must be some benefit to all the training I do and life is for living innit!
No biking for the bigman today. A rest day. Has the world stopped turning?
I decided that it was time to give the achilles a wee run out. It has been a problem since I did the Alloa half marathon in March. My physio kicked off the recovery with some excellent work that got me mobile again and since then I've started back out plodding the stunning countryside that surrounds the village. West Fife is vastly under-rated but in my view it is a fine place to live.
So my run extended to all of 3 and a bit miles. The achilles survived and gives me hope that I'm well on the way to full recovery. I was supposed to be running the Edinburgh Marathon which is at the end of May but sadly that was canned by the injury.
Sadly the Fit One and Santiago are both out for Skye due to other commitments leaving the bigman and myself to fly the colours of the Gillespie Road Wheelers. I understand that a separate, more attractive, tour is departing to Arran the same weekend as the trip to Skye. We wish them well on the Tour de Arran and eagerly await to find out who will be wearing the yellow jersey!
I'm sure we'll all come back with some great stories.
The bigman plans a wee run out tomorrow and I might join him if work permits.
My thoughts have turned to what I'll wear for the Skye Sportive. Seemingly unimportant choice unless you're an overweight 45 year old biker. Every race whether biking, running or triathlon I'm the fat, round one lurking around in unfeasibly tight lycra - I hate it! At the Ironman the majority of triathletes are racing snakes. On the move and in the pack I feel ok because sometimes I can beat a snake or two but on the whole I would like to join the racing snake class and not stick out or have bits sticking out of my top.
The bigman is shrinking. I'm not. It might be time to say goodbye to Gu Puddings, cakes, chocolate and the odd beer but then there must be some benefit to all the training I do and life is for living innit!
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