A dodgy arm. Severe curvature of the spine. Awkward dragging foot. Child murdering tendencies, you say? Came a cropper on a damp, boggy field, too.
I wonder if Richard the Third is available for the 4's?
- Mark
- Mark is a 35 year old, ginger-haired and now fortunately balding, village club cricket player. An opening inswing bowler that doesn't swing it any longer. He wrote a Blog two years ago when preparing for a game a cricket on the flanks of Mt Everest and was told to carry on writing it.
Monday, 4 February 2013
Tuesday, 13 November 2012
Chilli Sauce, Cricket Clubs and Aleisha The Mouse...
I'm dreadful at this. I'm going to get better.
It's been a while since my last Blog and there has been lots to update. The cricket season finished as it started. Damp.
The rain dashed our plans to play up until the end of September and the Indian Summer we were promised by the drongo's on the TV, obviously stayed in India. The final few weeks proved to be interesting to say the least.
The First Eleven stayed alive in the Saracens Herts League Div 2, with a sprinkling of good performances surrounded by many mediocre ones. The Second Eleven were affectively accused of cheating by fielding myself who happened to bowl straight on occasions and some teams felt this was unfair. Nursing an injury, we were always in the right and appealed to the League which, rightly, was upheld. The performance enhancing drugs I had been taking for several months certainly did help me through this volatile stage of the season, thanks goodness. The Thirds has their cummupence basically and were horribly screwed through their trousers most weeks even before getting out of bed but the real success this season was the promotion of the Fourth Eleven. They did brilliantly from start to finish and utterly deserve their promotion to a new division. The fact that many of their team were members of their own family or family friend's pets that owed a favour is testament to the hard work the Lads put in.
Sunday cricket had its ups and downs but is a real flag up the pole of a successful club. We consistently fielded 2 sides that had mixed success in the Chess Valley Sunday League. Considering most players were at that age that waking up on a Sunday morning is hard enough anyway let alone understanding what roof their trousers ended up on. We did well.
The end of the season came round fast enough though and despite the issues we had to endure from certain quarters, we did really well. It is brilliant to see people helping and spreading the load. With pressures from other responsibilities, it gets harder but those that do run the club need to push to get others even more involved.
However, beer was drunk, wickets were taken and even runs were scored on occasion. The Annual Dinner and Dance proved mucho hilarity and a great celebration for the Club at the end of a hard year. Usual antics got out of hand and the younger generations exchanged bodily fluids or passed out, quick time.
With the onset of the crisper months, the Preston Cricket Club Hiking Society has had its first outing. Meeting at 12 in Welwyn, we celebrated the art of Brewing all day and encountered many wonderfully bad beers as we trudged our way, cross country, from Old Welwyn and back to Preston in time for Irish Stew, more beer and a rowdy evening listening to the Ploughmen, live from the Red Lion saloon bar. In fact, we all fell into the pub, half asleep, fought half a pint all the way down to the froth and went home; broken, already hung-over with breath that could melt bank vaults. Are we getting older? Yes. Obviously, we are looking to book our next outing and exploration of the back street boozers of Cambridge, that often throws up a few surprises with interesting nooks and crannies of Cambridge's underbelly being explored, pickled eggs eaten and falling headfirst into overused and under-maintained urinals.
There's something about walking through unknown fields, lost, having had a few, with a head-torch on that's rapidly losing the gnats fart of power it had in the first place. We came across a stream in the pitch black, which my colleague suggested in a macho way that we should wade across to safety. Watching him go up to his nuts in freezing glacier melt it didn't look all that appealing and made most of us wince to be honest. A gentle tap on the head-torch and a simple glance left revealed a perfectly adequate bridge, by which the rest of the group traversed this tricky geological anomaly by. Once we found the sanctity of the Strathmore Arms, there was nothing else to do but warm against the Autumnal air than partake in the Chilli Sauce challenge. The landlord collects chilli sauces of weapons grade strength that are quite obviously illegal. A small dot placed on a small cracker will have most men coming out in hives, eyes closing as if stung by wasps suffering from hayfever, nose and ears streaming a mixture of saliva, snot and blood and praying for sweet merciful death. Anyone looking to relieve themselves in the bathrooms and touching any piece of their manhood, will spring the deadly unseen danger of handling old bottles of chilli sauce. Years of use will see small but lethal deposits encrusted on the bottle exterior. When that residue is transferred to said young mans penis, one can only imagine the intensely searing pain, inflicted by the "pisser" himself. A genius, hideously effective final insult to those already dying from within due to eating chilli sauce that would make the sun itself feel like a choc-ice eaten in Reykjavik, naked.
Happy Days.
The past week has seen me and our new guest at home doing battle in the kitchen. We have a mouse.
The girls have called it Aliesha. Yup, I can't answer that one either. Put it this way, Aleisha's winning as she (?) runs me ragged around the kitchen as she performs feats of mouselike acrobatic excellence to avoid the fakking chop. Traps are down now so hopefully Aleisha's power of smell, sense of hunger and downright stupidity, may get her in trouble. Traps are loaded with little crackers covered in peanut butter and we'll see what luck might be in the air. No hope, I know. She's there right now, behind my skirting board with her mates, on her mousey sun-lounger, sipping little blue mousey cocktails with little umbrella's wondering when it's time to run the fact, bald bloke ragged round his own home again.
It's been a while since my last Blog and there has been lots to update. The cricket season finished as it started. Damp.
The rain dashed our plans to play up until the end of September and the Indian Summer we were promised by the drongo's on the TV, obviously stayed in India. The final few weeks proved to be interesting to say the least.
The First Eleven stayed alive in the Saracens Herts League Div 2, with a sprinkling of good performances surrounded by many mediocre ones. The Second Eleven were affectively accused of cheating by fielding myself who happened to bowl straight on occasions and some teams felt this was unfair. Nursing an injury, we were always in the right and appealed to the League which, rightly, was upheld. The performance enhancing drugs I had been taking for several months certainly did help me through this volatile stage of the season, thanks goodness. The Thirds has their cummupence basically and were horribly screwed through their trousers most weeks even before getting out of bed but the real success this season was the promotion of the Fourth Eleven. They did brilliantly from start to finish and utterly deserve their promotion to a new division. The fact that many of their team were members of their own family or family friend's pets that owed a favour is testament to the hard work the Lads put in.
Sunday cricket had its ups and downs but is a real flag up the pole of a successful club. We consistently fielded 2 sides that had mixed success in the Chess Valley Sunday League. Considering most players were at that age that waking up on a Sunday morning is hard enough anyway let alone understanding what roof their trousers ended up on. We did well.
The end of the season came round fast enough though and despite the issues we had to endure from certain quarters, we did really well. It is brilliant to see people helping and spreading the load. With pressures from other responsibilities, it gets harder but those that do run the club need to push to get others even more involved.
However, beer was drunk, wickets were taken and even runs were scored on occasion. The Annual Dinner and Dance proved mucho hilarity and a great celebration for the Club at the end of a hard year. Usual antics got out of hand and the younger generations exchanged bodily fluids or passed out, quick time.
With the onset of the crisper months, the Preston Cricket Club Hiking Society has had its first outing. Meeting at 12 in Welwyn, we celebrated the art of Brewing all day and encountered many wonderfully bad beers as we trudged our way, cross country, from Old Welwyn and back to Preston in time for Irish Stew, more beer and a rowdy evening listening to the Ploughmen, live from the Red Lion saloon bar. In fact, we all fell into the pub, half asleep, fought half a pint all the way down to the froth and went home; broken, already hung-over with breath that could melt bank vaults. Are we getting older? Yes. Obviously, we are looking to book our next outing and exploration of the back street boozers of Cambridge, that often throws up a few surprises with interesting nooks and crannies of Cambridge's underbelly being explored, pickled eggs eaten and falling headfirst into overused and under-maintained urinals.
There's something about walking through unknown fields, lost, having had a few, with a head-torch on that's rapidly losing the gnats fart of power it had in the first place. We came across a stream in the pitch black, which my colleague suggested in a macho way that we should wade across to safety. Watching him go up to his nuts in freezing glacier melt it didn't look all that appealing and made most of us wince to be honest. A gentle tap on the head-torch and a simple glance left revealed a perfectly adequate bridge, by which the rest of the group traversed this tricky geological anomaly by. Once we found the sanctity of the Strathmore Arms, there was nothing else to do but warm against the Autumnal air than partake in the Chilli Sauce challenge. The landlord collects chilli sauces of weapons grade strength that are quite obviously illegal. A small dot placed on a small cracker will have most men coming out in hives, eyes closing as if stung by wasps suffering from hayfever, nose and ears streaming a mixture of saliva, snot and blood and praying for sweet merciful death. Anyone looking to relieve themselves in the bathrooms and touching any piece of their manhood, will spring the deadly unseen danger of handling old bottles of chilli sauce. Years of use will see small but lethal deposits encrusted on the bottle exterior. When that residue is transferred to said young mans penis, one can only imagine the intensely searing pain, inflicted by the "pisser" himself. A genius, hideously effective final insult to those already dying from within due to eating chilli sauce that would make the sun itself feel like a choc-ice eaten in Reykjavik, naked.
Happy Days.
The past week has seen me and our new guest at home doing battle in the kitchen. We have a mouse.
The girls have called it Aliesha. Yup, I can't answer that one either. Put it this way, Aleisha's winning as she (?) runs me ragged around the kitchen as she performs feats of mouselike acrobatic excellence to avoid the fakking chop. Traps are down now so hopefully Aleisha's power of smell, sense of hunger and downright stupidity, may get her in trouble. Traps are loaded with little crackers covered in peanut butter and we'll see what luck might be in the air. No hope, I know. She's there right now, behind my skirting board with her mates, on her mousey sun-lounger, sipping little blue mousey cocktails with little umbrella's wondering when it's time to run the fact, bald bloke ragged round his own home again.
Thursday, 16 August 2012
Barn Owls, Cottaging and New Wheels
Fucking Owls.
The Preston Faithful for the last two weekends have been rolling up their sleeves and pulling down their trousers to make the pavilion ship-shape, clean and tidy for the impending season that will kick off in the next two weeks.
Their is a subtle scent of Bluebells on the wind, the cuckoos are rutting somewhere in Doggers Wood behind the ground and the gang-mowers don't work. Must be April.
Every year we paint, burn, scrub, push, pull, bugger and bend in order that our immaculate ground looks like a new pin; and we have but we have an owl issue. It seems that some sort of Owl is using our guttering as a roof level, mid air, feathery bog. By the looks of things whatever he's eating isn't agreeing with him and it looks like a agricultural shit truck has exploded up the side of the pavilion.
We actually had a our first two games of the season this weekend, a couple of friendlies.
First cricket net of the year. You betcha. Done.
Running in to bowl was like running through chocolate and now every time in sneeze it's like a hand grenade going off in my rib-cage. It was good to get it out of the way though. It can feel a bit sad knowing that when you do something, you will never be as good as you once were at it. It's a bit annoying but there you go. We all get bald, fat, slow and shit.
The 2012 season nears. Like most cricket clubs countrywide, Preston is starting to yawn, stretch and fart itself awake from its winter hibernation. Snow still covers the ground but the faint taint of ionised air on the wind, the sound of the wood-pigeon's in the woods and the fact that I have already bowled a cricket ball into the roof of a sports hall means that the season and indeed spring will soon be here. April is the magical month, when we don the whites again, try and hit a slow moving ball with a piece of wood and relish in the spring and summer ales at the Red Lion.
Having recently been on the receiving end of a particularly aggressive, snatch and grab Kronenbourg session in Bedfordshire, it would be better to ease off and settle for some milder beers. After all, I am in training. Driving in the front seat of someone's (don't know who's) car, it was like being at the steering wheel of the Enterprise and Starship Command had advertised that there was free sex at HQ for one night only. To be frank, Mr Zulu could well have been driving for all I knew. The streaks of light whizzing past and the lurching cornering made me hang on to lunch for dear life.
A new dawn possibly at Preston. We have had to manage a lot through the winter months and some changing of the guard at the Club. But we will still be there. We must look to encourage the younger members to get more involved and I am pleased that some are beginning too. This is essential or we will indeed whither on the vine.
The younger lads want to make it more professional which makes sense to be fair. Get to the ground early, look the nuts and doing warm-ups. Before, the idea of a warm-up was forgetting your lighter and having to walk back to the cricket bag to get it. You would have to hurdle over the other bags of course and long jump over the puddles of pee that collect in every cricket changing room corner. Warm up done, right?
Soon the outdoor nets will start. Every 5th ball you get will smash all three out of the ground while the rest of the 3 and a half minutes you get in bat will be picking the dog-digested cricket balls out from the stingers or off the top of the nets themselves. Soon, the fielding practices, the high-catches, the re-opening of hairline fractures, the falling over, etc.
So, ever efficient to haven't updated my Blog here for over a year.
Has anything happened over the course of the year. Yes, loads.
Can I remember any of it? Nah.
The cricket season 2011 saw an amazing 3 out our 4 sides at Preston gain promotion which is a huge success and testament to the hard work the Captains and the Vice's contribute. We now have sides fielded in Div 2, 5, 10 and 13.
The club went through some ups and downs last year and indeed in the subsequent winter months leading up to Christmas 2011 and the New Year.
We started afresh in 2012, with renewed spirits and new optimism. Then it rained.
It rained so much that the people of North Hertfordshire started growing gills. Gills, on top of the gill's that they already have along with their one eyebrow and webbed feet. I didn't mean that. I'm very proud of where I live and indeed grew up in.
The season has jumped around, jittered, pulled some punches, and kicked us squarely in the knackers as well. The Firsts continue to do OK, the Seconds have found the going firm, the Thirds, even firmer and the Fourths have really been the shining light for the Club and have won 99% of their played games so far, which is of course brilliant.
Cricket tour to Bristol, always the highlight of the year, was executed with grace and some good cricket played as well as STD's caught. Wonderful grounds such as Hinton Charterhouse, Painswick and Malmesbury entertained us around the Bristol area. Beers were drunk, trousers were set on fire, and the usual shenanigans were encouraged. No one lost their pubic mound, snorted vodka and violated any animals which was slightly disappointing - although one of the younger lads needed a grazing licence to take one such trophy home after she was almost unconscious through drinking about 20 blue WKD's. Great catch.
The rest of the season looks like it will bring some challenges - availability being the main opponent to beat. Summer Holidays and younger guys wanting to ride around on shitty scooters to watch girls in local parks being the main two obstacles to overcome, I think. We have always set a standard though and we try very hard to adhere to that.
So, I will try and update more regularly and keep on documenting Preston CC for reasons of prosperity, sodomy, evidence and the lash.
Has anything happened over the course of the year. Yes, loads.
Can I remember any of it? Nah.
The cricket season 2011 saw an amazing 3 out our 4 sides at Preston gain promotion which is a huge success and testament to the hard work the Captains and the Vice's contribute. We now have sides fielded in Div 2, 5, 10 and 13.
The club went through some ups and downs last year and indeed in the subsequent winter months leading up to Christmas 2011 and the New Year.
We started afresh in 2012, with renewed spirits and new optimism. Then it rained.
It rained so much that the people of North Hertfordshire started growing gills. Gills, on top of the gill's that they already have along with their one eyebrow and webbed feet. I didn't mean that. I'm very proud of where I live and indeed grew up in.
The season has jumped around, jittered, pulled some punches, and kicked us squarely in the knackers as well. The Firsts continue to do OK, the Seconds have found the going firm, the Thirds, even firmer and the Fourths have really been the shining light for the Club and have won 99% of their played games so far, which is of course brilliant.
Cricket tour to Bristol, always the highlight of the year, was executed with grace and some good cricket played as well as STD's caught. Wonderful grounds such as Hinton Charterhouse, Painswick and Malmesbury entertained us around the Bristol area. Beers were drunk, trousers were set on fire, and the usual shenanigans were encouraged. No one lost their pubic mound, snorted vodka and violated any animals which was slightly disappointing - although one of the younger lads needed a grazing licence to take one such trophy home after she was almost unconscious through drinking about 20 blue WKD's. Great catch.
The rest of the season looks like it will bring some challenges - availability being the main opponent to beat. Summer Holidays and younger guys wanting to ride around on shitty scooters to watch girls in local parks being the main two obstacles to overcome, I think. We have always set a standard though and we try very hard to adhere to that.
So, I will try and update more regularly and keep on documenting Preston CC for reasons of prosperity, sodomy, evidence and the lash.
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
Will's Nuptials and Big Bird's Bhuna
Easter's come and gone and we now hurtle towards Prince Williams impending nuptials - which is what I suppose Kate will be doing after the free bar closes on the wedding night.
"OFF WITH HIS HEAD"
The Royal Wedding is on Friday and we have a loaded calendar of cricket for the weekend. There's nothing better than drinking all day to then play the first league game of the season with a headache that feels like you've just nailed a picture to your eye and a throat as dry as a nun's nasty.
The club's looking OK with some good performances in the pre-season friendlies. With last years heart attacks, cricket tour, hernia operations, swollen testicles, loss of lighters, pubic shaves that went wrong and everything else hugely drastic, I hope the new season brings success. We must look to bring in the younger blood of the club, all of whom have real spark and it would be good to turn that effervescence on, on the pitch. Early signs are full of promise.
Preston CC veteran, the Big Bird turns 50 this weekend. The man that has spent most of his adult life exploring the effects of shit beer and prawn Bhuna has on the human digestive tract, has made the big 5/0. I'm told a barrel has been purchased which means that most of us will be going home in a box that evening, which will be good. Big B, a legend in his own lunchtime. The man who wore only a plastic lobster for a night out in Deal, the man who classifies Luther Vandross as a "Like" on Facebook, the man who hospitalised Clarkie by simply running into him, the man that bats with a 4 pound cricket bat and the man who has got Preston CC 3rd Eleven promoted for the third season turns 50. Well Done Bird.
The season will soon be in full-swing. We will soon be in the bosoms of our Preston CC cricketing brethren on the veranda of the Red Lion, supping on some glorious summerish ales as the heat of the day gently lows in the late evening. The sweat of day's hard cricketing yakka disappearing as quickly as the beer. What news of the second's, the third's, and the fourth eleven? With the bats swooping with insect chasing abandon and the midges start to infuriate, we will talk crap about season's gone by; of glorious innings knocked, of wonderful strokes made, of unplayable balls delivered, of amazing catches snaffled, of willies painted blue, of minibuses reversed into other minibuses and other heady tales of great season's gone by - wonderful stuff - and whilst all this goes on and the merry chit-chat of a fantastic cricket club at rest in the company of great people, the pub's pea-hen will be shitting on Bomber's bonnet.
Marvellous.
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
The thwack of leather on testicles..
I don't know what tempted Casey to take all his clothes off and simulate having intercourse with the very field that we we're all standing in but, as you know, people do the strangest things having drunk a few pints of Abbott very quickly.
The sight from the passengers windows of the landing Easyjet's must have been a very strange sight. The sight of six men walking across a field of young rape, one of which was stark naked, waving his johnson up and down like a dead man's handle and running around as if his hair was on fire. Meanwhile his clothes were being stolen by the other guys and being sprayed over every hedge within a mile radius. It must have been a particularly disturbing scene indeed, even to the Doggers and rarer dog-walkers that frequent the local countryside.
Anyway, we'd had a few. Preston Cricket Club amuses itself in a variety of ways when there's no cricket.
Our nets have started, or rather nearly finished, in time for the onset of the 2011 season which starts in a few weeks time.
Bowlers have bowled, batsman and batted and all seem to remember what to do-ish. I attended myself a few weeks ago to test out my recent hernia operation and to make sure that my entrails didn't explode onto the popping crease if I had been too premature.
When I was asked to don the pads, I was bowled first ball - so all good there.
The only worse batting performance was Tommo who was hit in the testicles on a fairly regularly basis it seemed - like a young Mark Ealham, and was out more often than not - either bowled or caught behind trying to dab yorkers between point and gully. Typically, and rather amusingly a quiet comment from him that he wasn't wearing a protective box to a close mate, then saw the same close mate running up to the bowlers end and broadcasting this to everyone and consequently every bowler tried there level best to bowl their deliveries as fast and as straight into his nuts as they could. Small 14 years old off spinners all of a sudden come hurtling in like Malinga the Slinger, aiming their new, schoolboy red cherries right at his exposed and very probably bleeding gonads. It was like watching a seal clubbing session.
That's a cricket club, right there.
In the next few weeks we will start to bring the ground to life.
We'll need to throw fag ends all over the patio, placing half used and urine filled bottles of shower gel in the showers, and putting those weird, dangley legged spiders you only seem to get in cricket pavilions in the corners of the changing rooms. We'll need to break everything of any use in the kitchenette and leave only some spectacles in the medical box. We'll need to cut the grass and roll the wicket on our diesel powered roller that will invariably be filled with petrol and will likely explode at the point of throttle. We will also have to erect the outdoor nets just so the local kids can have a goal to play football in. We'll also have to throw a jockstrap on the roof, lose all the spare balls, write TWAT on the team photos and complete other pre-season tasks that we have had to do since the dawn of cricket seasons so that we are ready to play.
We will also have to find a tea-lady or two; another season of banana and Marmite sandwiches, pasta with margerine sauce and satsumas, I don't think will be stomached as a substantial tea any longer. Never ask players to cook.
But, do it we must for the season starts on April 17th 2011.
Bugger.
Thursday, 17 March 2011
Bugger
I can't type any more.
2 years ago I could - well, sort of. My fat sausage like fingers would fly round the keyboard like one of those "C" list celebrities does around the ice-rink on a Sunday night.
But now, look at me. I'm poking the keyboard like I'm trying to find out if a cat is alive or actually dead. 3 hours that bit took.
Anyhoo
2 years ago I took part in an event that made some impact on some of the world for a while. It was a great adventure without any form of pre-notion of whether it would succeed, in a land far, far away to raise cash for some great causes.
The team did it and I did it and everyone made it home safe and sound. Some of us were pleased to come out of it in one piece but for others it significantly changed the course of their lives, careers, personal hygiene and outlook.
Job done and mission accomplished. We raised about £150,000 for the Lord's Taverners and the Himalaya Trust UK.
Yesterday - literally two years later, I have just been asked to present the expedition to friends' son's school. ( I doubt my use of apostrophe's is right there. ... Or there. )
Since then, several people have suggested I carry on writing the blog - Induckers on Everest - as it served to cause some amusement in their lives - reading about me in various states of distress, undress and er, stress and, to be honest, I quite enjoyed writing it. So here I am, two years later and having another lash at it.
Not sure what I'm going to write about as yet, mind you and I'm not climbing up another mountain in the near future so I think I'm going to look to my own life, world, etc for inspiration. I play a lot of village cricket and live in a wonderfully rural community which usually presents moments of sheer amusement so I think I will use my Blog as a type of diary of notes and commentaries of who I am and where I live.
You still awake?
Friday, 22 May 2009
Final Analysis
Apologies for my Blog silence to my reader.
It's been a few weeks since the wheels touched down at Gatwick; and then 2 hours later at Heathrow and since a line was drawn under The Everest Test 2009; or has it? As far as the Nepal bit goes - Mission Accomplished but in some respects and for many people on the trip this is the beginning of some brilliant things.
I am not going to regurgitate the trip, step by step or potato by potato, as there is too much to write for now, but I can honestly say that I have come out of it firstly alive but secondly a more rounded, fat, ginger-haired person. The event didn't just last 3 weeks; it lasted 1 year - a little over in fact. The first meeting conveniently held in Fulham, the start of my fitness runs, the stopping every 10 yards to wretch and the promise to cut back on everything bad. The freezing fog, the skintight spandex Ron Hill jogging strides clutching my nads like Monty Panesar clutches an Ashes-winning skier. The 5km "fun-runs" and being beaten by a 4ft high old lady with home made running mittens and my desire to push her under a bus. The upset at the not losing weight. The Fantasy Farm Fcuked Up Challenge at Kimbo's house, the porridge and the inflatable mattresses in the village hall, experiencing the Joe Williams Symphony for the first time. The silent, breathless cricket in Oxford, the ball copt in the knackers by Dave Christie in Oxford, the worst film footage ever recorded in Oxford, the uphill shuttle running in Oxford. The Bath Half, nipple chaffage, Hillsy running like a bandy, arse-buggered trawlerman. The goodbye's to my little girls in the morning and the realisation that I had bought completely the wrong rucksack in the afternoon of departure day. The departure and the realisation finally that I was flying to Nepal to trek to Mt Everest and break a world record whilst actually landing in Nepal. So many great and brilliant memories.
The trek was tough; I mean seriously tough. Not, like, doing a run and thinking that was tough or like stubbing a toe and thinking that hurt. This was bull-buggeringly, serious risk of major illness, debilitatingly tough. Experienced medical experts telling us that we are doing a very dangerous thing, tough. But worth it.
The Everest region belittles you. You think you've seen landscapes or been up big mountains skiing or whatever. It's indescribable how big this land is and it is hardly surprising that the the local people have such reverence for the mountains alone. It's a place that makes you feel very, very small and it's not only because it is very, very big. There's more to it than that. This coming from me too; Mr. Idontbelieveinthsistuff. They say that there are 3 natural phenomenons in the wold that don't disappoint. Mark Waters' natural ability to gain weight, The Grand Canyon and the Khumbu region of Nepal. Having not been to the Grand Canyon, I can definitely vouch for the other two.
The task itself of actually playing the cricket (joint top scorer for Tenzing by the way) actually came second, slightly for me anyway, and the bigger picture of what was happening here needed to be also have a look in. The achievement of playing the cricket medically and physically at such an extreme altitude was a hard challenge but hugely enjoyable but it was achieved and achieved safely. Personally however, I had also managed to participate in this incredible journey with 50 or so extraordinary people with the same values, outlook and personal missions as I have. Great friendships I hope were forged and an example was set for anyone wishing to get something quite extraordinary achieved. I am glad the world, or at least some of it, watched. We should feel very proud of what went on in April but also what every one of us achieved in the lead up to Nepal. The lions share of the buff-rub obvioulsy needs to go to Kirt, Wes, Cuzza and everyone else who gave so much to get it off the ground but we all did what we had to do to make it happen. I'm seriously proud of being part of this and my personal objectives were pretty much all achieved. Yeah, we didn't bukakke Team Hillary on the cricket pitch like we had planned but in every other direction, for me, the trip itself was the out-and-out winner.
I can feel a Lionel Ritchie song coming on..........
Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm am trying to say but those that haven't heard - Team Hillary screwed Team Tenzing with their pink trousers still on. Team Hillary 151 all out - D.Kirtley 50 odd, Glen Lowis 20 odd, Staveley, Campbell, Kiwi all stirred with bat. Team Tenzing bowled out for 116. Weather conditions were a little "iffy" to say the least and the game probably should have been re-scheduled ad Team Tenzing had conditioned their training for higher, harsher altitude's, to be honest. We just couldn't be bothered to win, either. All that publicity.........
Anyway, back to reality. It is weird and from what I am reading in some other Blogs I think everyone has got the same feelings about being back. Nothings changed, but I suppose that is always how it was going to be. The memories and the endless photos and emails will keep reminding us about Everest for many years to come as I hope will the friendships now made and the beer that will invariably be drunk. Some from the group will go back and do it again. Others, like me I suspect, probably won't.....do the Everest trek again, anyway. But it will go down in everyone's life as a major personal goal and a monumental achievement. I am very proud to be a part of it.
Cricket is back to normal for - 7 for 19 at the weekend -y'know, the usual standards.
Lowis - you couldn't hit those tracer bullets if the ball had a bell in it.
Altitude, damn you....................
It's been a few weeks since the wheels touched down at Gatwick; and then 2 hours later at Heathrow and since a line was drawn under The Everest Test 2009; or has it? As far as the Nepal bit goes - Mission Accomplished but in some respects and for many people on the trip this is the beginning of some brilliant things.
I am not going to regurgitate the trip, step by step or potato by potato, as there is too much to write for now, but I can honestly say that I have come out of it firstly alive but secondly a more rounded, fat, ginger-haired person. The event didn't just last 3 weeks; it lasted 1 year - a little over in fact. The first meeting conveniently held in Fulham, the start of my fitness runs, the stopping every 10 yards to wretch and the promise to cut back on everything bad. The freezing fog, the skintight spandex Ron Hill jogging strides clutching my nads like Monty Panesar clutches an Ashes-winning skier. The 5km "fun-runs" and being beaten by a 4ft high old lady with home made running mittens and my desire to push her under a bus. The upset at the not losing weight. The Fantasy Farm Fcuked Up Challenge at Kimbo's house, the porridge and the inflatable mattresses in the village hall, experiencing the Joe Williams Symphony for the first time. The silent, breathless cricket in Oxford, the ball copt in the knackers by Dave Christie in Oxford, the worst film footage ever recorded in Oxford, the uphill shuttle running in Oxford. The Bath Half, nipple chaffage, Hillsy running like a bandy, arse-buggered trawlerman. The goodbye's to my little girls in the morning and the realisation that I had bought completely the wrong rucksack in the afternoon of departure day. The departure and the realisation finally that I was flying to Nepal to trek to Mt Everest and break a world record whilst actually landing in Nepal. So many great and brilliant memories.
The trek was tough; I mean seriously tough. Not, like, doing a run and thinking that was tough or like stubbing a toe and thinking that hurt. This was bull-buggeringly, serious risk of major illness, debilitatingly tough. Experienced medical experts telling us that we are doing a very dangerous thing, tough. But worth it.
The Everest region belittles you. You think you've seen landscapes or been up big mountains skiing or whatever. It's indescribable how big this land is and it is hardly surprising that the the local people have such reverence for the mountains alone. It's a place that makes you feel very, very small and it's not only because it is very, very big. There's more to it than that. This coming from me too; Mr. Idontbelieveinthsistuff. They say that there are 3 natural phenomenons in the wold that don't disappoint. Mark Waters' natural ability to gain weight, The Grand Canyon and the Khumbu region of Nepal. Having not been to the Grand Canyon, I can definitely vouch for the other two.
The task itself of actually playing the cricket (joint top scorer for Tenzing by the way) actually came second, slightly for me anyway, and the bigger picture of what was happening here needed to be also have a look in. The achievement of playing the cricket medically and physically at such an extreme altitude was a hard challenge but hugely enjoyable but it was achieved and achieved safely. Personally however, I had also managed to participate in this incredible journey with 50 or so extraordinary people with the same values, outlook and personal missions as I have. Great friendships I hope were forged and an example was set for anyone wishing to get something quite extraordinary achieved. I am glad the world, or at least some of it, watched. We should feel very proud of what went on in April but also what every one of us achieved in the lead up to Nepal. The lions share of the buff-rub obvioulsy needs to go to Kirt, Wes, Cuzza and everyone else who gave so much to get it off the ground but we all did what we had to do to make it happen. I'm seriously proud of being part of this and my personal objectives were pretty much all achieved. Yeah, we didn't bukakke Team Hillary on the cricket pitch like we had planned but in every other direction, for me, the trip itself was the out-and-out winner.
I can feel a Lionel Ritchie song coming on..........
Anyway, I'm not sure what I'm am trying to say but those that haven't heard - Team Hillary screwed Team Tenzing with their pink trousers still on. Team Hillary 151 all out - D.Kirtley 50 odd, Glen Lowis 20 odd, Staveley, Campbell, Kiwi all stirred with bat. Team Tenzing bowled out for 116. Weather conditions were a little "iffy" to say the least and the game probably should have been re-scheduled ad Team Tenzing had conditioned their training for higher, harsher altitude's, to be honest. We just couldn't be bothered to win, either. All that publicity.........
Anyway, back to reality. It is weird and from what I am reading in some other Blogs I think everyone has got the same feelings about being back. Nothings changed, but I suppose that is always how it was going to be. The memories and the endless photos and emails will keep reminding us about Everest for many years to come as I hope will the friendships now made and the beer that will invariably be drunk. Some from the group will go back and do it again. Others, like me I suspect, probably won't.....do the Everest trek again, anyway. But it will go down in everyone's life as a major personal goal and a monumental achievement. I am very proud to be a part of it.
Cricket is back to normal for - 7 for 19 at the weekend -y'know, the usual standards.
Lowis - you couldn't hit those tracer bullets if the ball had a bell in it.
Altitude, damn you....................
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Tenzing Go-a-Hunting
Chaps,
I just wanted to post a last Blog before we all fly off to Nepal tomorrow to say a huge thanks for the support I have enjoyed in preparation for this trip. I promise I won't sing a song or offer to take you on a windy walk; but the support I have had from family, friends, work colleagues, non-friends and people I really hate has been an amazing help and the sponsorship donations have been staggering. Thank-you very much.
Please don't stop though as these charities do amazing work and I aim to push the envelope on until long after I am back in the UK.
I have just enjoyed a great send-off weekend that has probably set me back, fitness-wise, until about May last year. The Red Lion was packed on Saturday to send the ginger bastard off in style. It was supposed to be a surprise but considering I was CC'd on most of the "Mark doesn't know about this" emails and the fact I was phoned up to make sure I was actually around last Saturday meant that the cat had definitely been let out of bag. It was a great night though with the donation jar on the bar, simply overflowing. Good old British Lifeboats. I was also dressed appropriately I thought in the Bath Half spandex top - unwashed I remembered halfway through the evening but as most people were drinking Pedigree, I don't think the smell off me put them off. I looked like the cling-wrapped Christmas Ham again with the XL sizing proving complete bollocks and it stretched over me again like the skin on a dodgy rice-pudding. People got the idea though and thanks to Colesy and DIC for organizing the troops. I also received some touching gifts to send me on my way - the grandfather clock, the carving set, the West Highland Terrier, the complete Encyclopedia Britannica and windsurfing lesson may not prove that beneficial at 5000m. The thought was there though.
The shopping has been frantic with more and more pieces of kit being purchased. I will probably just stay in the same pair of shorts and flip-flops like most cricket tours and have a wardrobe full of mountaineering kit unworn; ....or maybe not. Our official kit looks the nuts and pink has always been my colour - real men can wear it y'know and you just have to look at my forehead after a ten over spell in June.
Tomorrow sees the start of this great adventure and, from my corner, I would just like to say a very heartfelt Thank-you to Kirt, Wes, Cuzza, Charlie, Vicks and everyone else who had a hand in getting this venture off the ground but especially Kirt, Wes and Cuzza who have sweated life-blood into this and were always on-hand to ask mundane questions like what pants should I wear and what is the draught beer like. I have found the level of organization and effort that has been put into this trip simply staggering and, very simply, thanks guys; I hope we all do you proud. It's been a real pleasure being part of it and it will be a little strange when we touch down again in London on the 28th. What Next?
Until May.
Keep you posted.
Friday, 3 April 2009
I Love Pink Balls
Well. This is it.
The last few days. The final stretch. The Final Countdown. It's here.
Months of months of fitness, team bonding, team building, fitness bonding and bonding building.
The Everest Test, now called the Nokia Maps Everest Test 09, will be wheels up by 21.00 on Thursday 9th. A week yesterday. It seems weird to say that to myself, so God only knows what Leaders Kirt and Wes must be thinking now. It's been a huge achievement and quite obviously a monumental effort to get this and 60 odd people (not nearly 60 - 60 genuinely peculiar people) off the ground. If I could offer up a cyber round of applause; now's the time.
Just to go back a moment. We are now sponsored by Nokia and more precisely Nokia Maps, which is fantastic news and has brought a real boost to us all during the closing stages of the organisation to this unique event. Testament to the Herculian task of getting this trip moving is the final piece in the puzzle and bringing on board a wonderful brand.
We had our last formal get-together at Lords last Saturday where we learnt more about the finishing touches and the finer details of the trips logistics.
We had our full medical de-brief from the medical team and I have to say to say I feel very safe and secure in the knowledge that these guys are with us. They are all seriously good guys (and girl - Sorry Isla), very experienced and know their stuff. We must be able to listen to our bodies most of all but if I do have an arse full of tapeworms (seriously), we have the guys on board to be able to sort us out; that's a huge reassurance to me so many thanks for coming on board guys and fingers crossed that you will have plenty of time to enjoy the sites. Not my arse of course. I am sure you will...enjoy the sites......anyway........ I am sure too that they will be nothing like my boarding school Doctors, when even if an acute attack of Himalaya ArseWorm struck, I would have to drop my trousers and take a couple of Polo's twice daily.
We also had our final net session before departure where the Tenzing machine bared it's teeth for the first time in public, together and with the oppo in the next net. This finely honed, fully greased and bull-buggeringly brilliant team of guys I know are ready for the off and can smell victory.
The last few days. The final stretch. The Final Countdown. It's here.
Months of months of fitness, team bonding, team building, fitness bonding and bonding building.
The Everest Test, now called the Nokia Maps Everest Test 09, will be wheels up by 21.00 on Thursday 9th. A week yesterday. It seems weird to say that to myself, so God only knows what Leaders Kirt and Wes must be thinking now. It's been a huge achievement and quite obviously a monumental effort to get this and 60 odd people (not nearly 60 - 60 genuinely peculiar people) off the ground. If I could offer up a cyber round of applause; now's the time.
Just to go back a moment. We are now sponsored by Nokia and more precisely Nokia Maps, which is fantastic news and has brought a real boost to us all during the closing stages of the organisation to this unique event. Testament to the Herculian task of getting this trip moving is the final piece in the puzzle and bringing on board a wonderful brand.
We had our last formal get-together at Lords last Saturday where we learnt more about the finishing touches and the finer details of the trips logistics.
We had our full medical de-brief from the medical team and I have to say to say I feel very safe and secure in the knowledge that these guys are with us. They are all seriously good guys (and girl - Sorry Isla), very experienced and know their stuff. We must be able to listen to our bodies most of all but if I do have an arse full of tapeworms (seriously), we have the guys on board to be able to sort us out; that's a huge reassurance to me so many thanks for coming on board guys and fingers crossed that you will have plenty of time to enjoy the sites. Not my arse of course. I am sure you will...enjoy the sites......anyway........ I am sure too that they will be nothing like my boarding school Doctors, when even if an acute attack of Himalaya ArseWorm struck, I would have to drop my trousers and take a couple of Polo's twice daily.
We also had our final net session before departure where the Tenzing machine bared it's teeth for the first time in public, together and with the oppo in the next net. This finely honed, fully greased and bull-buggeringly brilliant team of guys I know are ready for the off and can smell victory.
Furious bowling, combined with West Indian-esque Calypso batting must have had a few of the Hillary brows furrowed over the two hour net session. Hillsy, Butler and Toovey I think bore the brunt of the bodily contact as we had to road-test the new, specially designed pink balls that we will use up the hill. These balls misbehaved brilliantly and never have the hallowed halls of the MCC echoed with "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH you F***ing Baas**rrrrrd" quite so much as when Tooves copped another pearler in the plums. The bowlers kept hurling them down - Arms were Shouldered, skin and bone were hit and bruised, bats flung in the air, yorkers were landed on the boot laces and screaming batsmen ran around in painful circles hopping and limping to try and shake the pain away, as if they had been shot in the backside by an annoyingly stingy air-rifle pellet. I should think the pain was heard in the Long Room and no doubt woke most of the 40 year old plus MCC members up in the pavilion who were enjoying their afternoon of farting in the Pavilion. Even the coach in the other half of the net was heard to say under his breath (whilst feeding balls into a bowling machine aimed at an 11 year olds head), "Even the Yeti will hear that........", as Toovey got another one in the clangers. Stirling work by all the batsmen really as those two hours couldn't have been easy. Pink Balls; it's the future. I've seen it.
We have also been immortalised in a computer game - www.stickcricket.com - and look for the Everest test logo. A fantastic way to while away the hours and another fantastic way for my fellow Preston Cricket Team-ers to smash me all over the, ...well....Himalaya really, without even having to get changed. Seriously good fun.
So, we now find ourselves 6 days away from the off. Still a hell of a lot to be done - more kit to buy, more kit to buy and more kit to buy. Walks to be done, sacks to be tested, boots to be broken further. These 6 days will go very quickly and I also need to enjoy the family a little before I go. Beth my daughter will be giving me a teddy to take up and stick on to my rucksack. Knowing her it will be the 7ft one she has in the corner of her room and I also have a surprise drinks evening on Saturday that I'm not supposed to know about but thanks everyone for coming and sending me off.
I can't believe its here and that next Friday I will be in Katmandu and next Saturday morning I will be on the best roller-coaster ride ever - flying into Lukla for the start of the trek. This will probably be my last Blog update before I'm back so keep you posted soon.
We have also been immortalised in a computer game - www.stickcricket.com - and look for the Everest test logo. A fantastic way to while away the hours and another fantastic way for my fellow Preston Cricket Team-ers to smash me all over the, ...well....Himalaya really, without even having to get changed. Seriously good fun.
So, we now find ourselves 6 days away from the off. Still a hell of a lot to be done - more kit to buy, more kit to buy and more kit to buy. Walks to be done, sacks to be tested, boots to be broken further. These 6 days will go very quickly and I also need to enjoy the family a little before I go. Beth my daughter will be giving me a teddy to take up and stick on to my rucksack. Knowing her it will be the 7ft one she has in the corner of her room and I also have a surprise drinks evening on Saturday that I'm not supposed to know about but thanks everyone for coming and sending me off.
I can't believe its here and that next Friday I will be in Katmandu and next Saturday morning I will be on the best roller-coaster ride ever - flying into Lukla for the start of the trek. This will probably be my last Blog update before I'm back so keep you posted soon.
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
Small Pub, Big World
I was having a diet, bio-power, nutro-Carling last Friday in my local and was speaking to our new landlord, Ray, when he slapped his forehead mid-sentence and ran off in the other direction.
>I had showered.
>>I had brushed my teeth before going to the pub.
>>>My body odour is usually not too unpleasant but I do sometimes have a spittle issue when talking to people in an enclosed space; it's like a defence mechanism - a warning to other tiddly people in uncomfortably loud and close environments not to get to close and that it's their round. Ray came back and pushed a small business card in my hand.
On one side was a hand-written note - "To Mark Waters - wishing you luck and thanks very much". One the flip-side was a smart livery in instantly recognisable colours with the name John Hooper CBE embossed on it - Chairman of the Lord's Taverners. I was speechless. Small world doesn't come close and having been a regular in the Red Lion for years I was unaware that John had been in before. Apparently he had seen my poster in the pub and realised that a member of the team going up Everest to raise money for the Lord's Taveners actually lived in the small Hertfordshire village he was enjoying a pie and a pint in. Amazing and if you ever read this John, many thanks for your encouragement.
The evening carried on as I was getting into my training a little more and a good friend of mine came in with a group of his mates. Introductions were made and conversation started to organically grow as the evening moved on. Everest was mentioned; the story unfolded and it turned out that the person I was talking with was George Powell's sister (George is the official photographer on the expedition) - my training had gone rather well up to that point and I have to admit that I have forgotten her name - sorry George and sorry George's sister. Apart from the fact that the evening had just taken another Twilight Zone twist and that it really was too coincidental to believe at the time; she also knew about everything I was talking about. The Fantasy Farm Challenge, the Bath Half, the pain, .....................the lot.
It had turned out to be a very strange but hugely enjoyable evening. I was reluctant to leave but I think I had had enough training for a Friday night.
Next Saturday is the last get-together for the group before the final rundown to the 9th. It is seriously amazing that we have reached this stage now. When I'm asked when I am off it is staggering to hear myself say that we are off in about 2 weeks. Quite a bit to do still. North Face need to see me again in Covent Garden after my lengthy visit last Saturday; which I am sure they are looking forward to. I must say that the service I received from the staff at North Face was superb and nothing was too much trouble - I probably monopolised about 6 people's time for over an hour - me, me, me. They genuinely wanted me to walk out with gear that will see me right and that I can use after our return; apart from the Bacofoil jacket that made me look like an extra that gets shot and falls from a high level walkway, whilst executing a perfect triple-salco, from a rubbish Bond Film. They realised that this stuff is a considerable investment and will make the trip far more enjoyable. Anyway, apparently I look the nuts in my Tangerine Himalayan jacket (which surprisingly blends in with my hair) and my red and green Campri strides and my blue, lobster fisherman's jumper ............................. hiddeous but practical. Like a walking flare...........................................................joke by the way. Although my Nuptse jacket isn't "bright" bright; I don't think there will be any chance of me not being seen by satellites, either.
Big thanks again to Dave C for setting this arrangement up.
The next few weeks will fly past and I reckon that will be the same whilst we are out in Nepal. I've got to remember to occasionally stop and "smell the flowers" while we are out there as it will be over all too quickly.
A good friend who has completed the trek has also given a small insight about what to expect - the stars in the evening, the unbelievable views and the people were high up on his list of things to experience and get under the skin of. This will carry you over the hard work. I'm sure it will.
I have cut'n'pasted his email as I think with a venture like this every little helps.
Weather:
The weather when I was there was perfect - not a cloud (we were above most of them!). Check the internet but the best times for the trek tend to be UK spring and Autumn - that's when the summit attempts tend to take place as the weather is best. You should be prepared for wet weather though, and just like UK winters, if the weather is good it can often mean it is colder than if there are clouds about.
Clothing:
My advice is layers! It's really really cold at night and in the morning (up to -25). Get yourself some good thermal underlayers for a start. Then non-cotton t-shirts (available from most trekking shops) as they are warm but dont stay wet (as you will undoubtedly get a sweat on with all that walking!) Next layer should be micro-fleeces. They are really light, easy to dry and full zips at the front make it easiest to adjust temperature. Finally, waterproof clothes are a must (coat, trousers and socks). Even if it isn't raining, they are a really good barrier against any wind or moisture and you will be staying in cabins with no heating. Hats, sunglasses, gloves and a scarf are all a must as well. Really try to avoid taking ski jackets or salopettes as they are too big and heavy and you'll get too hot as you walk in the daytime sunshine!
Footwear:
It's really important to get a pair of walking boots which cover your ankles. Some people will tell you that you could walk to base camp in trainers - which is true. But no.1 trainers aren't waterproof, and no.2 any slip on the way and you really risk hurting your ankles (hence the importance that they are covered!) It is also really important that your footwear is waterproof (for obvious reasons). My final piece of advise is to go to boots and get 'Compeed' blister plasters. If your shoes give you blisters (like mine did!) put the Compeed on the night before you walk - it will last for days and should stop you getting blisters in the first place! I wouldnt have made it without Compeed!!
Accessories:
Trekking poles are also a must and really help (particularly on the way down). A head torch is a really good idea as although you should never be walking too far at night, it is a key piece of kit. Also, get some iodine drops to purify water and anti-bacterial hand cleanser. Other than that, survival basics like a pen-knife, lighter, compass, whistle etc are a good idea. You should never have to use them, but it can't hurt to have them with you (and cause amazement among any Nepali children that you see along the way!)
How hard is it:
The short answer is very hard. I assume your trek will be around 15 days. The best way to prepare is to do what your doing. Go walking for long distances and take a heavy pack on your shoulders. In reality, porters will probably carry most of your gear, but without altitude to train at, a heavy pack is a good way to condition yourself.
Altitude :
The weather when I was there was perfect - not a cloud (we were above most of them!). Check the internet but the best times for the trek tend to be UK spring and Autumn - that's when the summit attempts tend to take place as the weather is best. You should be prepared for wet weather though, and just like UK winters, if the weather is good it can often mean it is colder than if there are clouds about.
Clothing:
My advice is layers! It's really really cold at night and in the morning (up to -25). Get yourself some good thermal underlayers for a start. Then non-cotton t-shirts (available from most trekking shops) as they are warm but dont stay wet (as you will undoubtedly get a sweat on with all that walking!) Next layer should be micro-fleeces. They are really light, easy to dry and full zips at the front make it easiest to adjust temperature. Finally, waterproof clothes are a must (coat, trousers and socks). Even if it isn't raining, they are a really good barrier against any wind or moisture and you will be staying in cabins with no heating. Hats, sunglasses, gloves and a scarf are all a must as well. Really try to avoid taking ski jackets or salopettes as they are too big and heavy and you'll get too hot as you walk in the daytime sunshine!
Footwear:
It's really important to get a pair of walking boots which cover your ankles. Some people will tell you that you could walk to base camp in trainers - which is true. But no.1 trainers aren't waterproof, and no.2 any slip on the way and you really risk hurting your ankles (hence the importance that they are covered!) It is also really important that your footwear is waterproof (for obvious reasons). My final piece of advise is to go to boots and get 'Compeed' blister plasters. If your shoes give you blisters (like mine did!) put the Compeed on the night before you walk - it will last for days and should stop you getting blisters in the first place! I wouldnt have made it without Compeed!!
Accessories:
Trekking poles are also a must and really help (particularly on the way down). A head torch is a really good idea as although you should never be walking too far at night, it is a key piece of kit. Also, get some iodine drops to purify water and anti-bacterial hand cleanser. Other than that, survival basics like a pen-knife, lighter, compass, whistle etc are a good idea. You should never have to use them, but it can't hurt to have them with you (and cause amazement among any Nepali children that you see along the way!)
How hard is it:
The short answer is very hard. I assume your trek will be around 15 days. The best way to prepare is to do what your doing. Go walking for long distances and take a heavy pack on your shoulders. In reality, porters will probably carry most of your gear, but without altitude to train at, a heavy pack is a good way to condition yourself.
Altitude :
As for altitude, you will certainly feel it! It is a very strange sensation, and can be panicky at night when your breathing really slows and you wake up gasping. The thing to remember is that it is normal to feel the altitude but to make sure that you are aware of the symptoms of altitude sickness. The fact is that you will get many of those symptoms to some degree or another (tired, headache etc), but it is when these symptoms are severe that it is dangerous. Key things to help you are:
1. Go slowly - I can't emphasise that enough - every breath you take at a lower altitude on the way up will help you to acclimatise. Don't feel pressured to walk anywhere fast. The slower you go, the better your chances will be!
2. Trek high, sleep low - This is followed in the Himalayas almost always, try to sleep lower than your maximum altitude each day
3. 300m a day - Try not to exceed climbing more than 300m a day in terms of sleeping locations
4. Keep your guide informed - If you don't feel great, let your guide know. They will all be well versed in the symptoms of AMS, but it can't hurt to have a professional watching your back
5. Diamox - Really controversial one this. You can buy it in almost any Kathmandu pharmacy and, as you probably know, it is designed to combat AMS. The key is, never self prescribe it! Have it with you, but if you need to take it, that should mean end of trek and descend. If you feel that bad, let your guide know, tell him that you want to take Diamox and get his opinion. If you take it too soon, it won't work, and if you get worse, it will have no effect.
I don't know anyone who hasn't suffered from the altitude (apart from the Sherpas!) You will feel it and parts of the trek will be very hard - but the end goal is worth it! :-)
How to get the most out of it:
It still is the most amazing place I've been or thing I have done. Much more enjoyable than Kilimanjaro or any other trek! The landscapes that you go through are breathtaking, from rivers and villages near Lukla, to the rocks above the treeline. The people that live there are by and large buddhist, and you will see the 'eyes of the buddha' looking at you from the 'Stupas' along the way. The mountain views are amazing and the stars are breathtaking. As hard as the trek can be at times, especially the altitude, the scenery is astonishing and certainly adds motivation when it gets tough.
As for the people, the sherpas are great. Really fun and unbelievalbe climbers (all about 5 foot and will overtake you on the route with fridges on thier head - literally fridges!) A deck of cards is often a good idea as the Sherpas love to learn games etc.
All in all I'm jealous! You'll have an amazing time! Nepal is a great country and the trek is phenomenal. Good luck and good luck with the record (I think a shortened run up might be an idea!)
Apologies if I have rambled too much above!
1. Go slowly - I can't emphasise that enough - every breath you take at a lower altitude on the way up will help you to acclimatise. Don't feel pressured to walk anywhere fast. The slower you go, the better your chances will be!
2. Trek high, sleep low - This is followed in the Himalayas almost always, try to sleep lower than your maximum altitude each day
3. 300m a day - Try not to exceed climbing more than 300m a day in terms of sleeping locations
4. Keep your guide informed - If you don't feel great, let your guide know. They will all be well versed in the symptoms of AMS, but it can't hurt to have a professional watching your back
5. Diamox - Really controversial one this. You can buy it in almost any Kathmandu pharmacy and, as you probably know, it is designed to combat AMS. The key is, never self prescribe it! Have it with you, but if you need to take it, that should mean end of trek and descend. If you feel that bad, let your guide know, tell him that you want to take Diamox and get his opinion. If you take it too soon, it won't work, and if you get worse, it will have no effect.
I don't know anyone who hasn't suffered from the altitude (apart from the Sherpas!) You will feel it and parts of the trek will be very hard - but the end goal is worth it! :-)
How to get the most out of it:
It still is the most amazing place I've been or thing I have done. Much more enjoyable than Kilimanjaro or any other trek! The landscapes that you go through are breathtaking, from rivers and villages near Lukla, to the rocks above the treeline. The people that live there are by and large buddhist, and you will see the 'eyes of the buddha' looking at you from the 'Stupas' along the way. The mountain views are amazing and the stars are breathtaking. As hard as the trek can be at times, especially the altitude, the scenery is astonishing and certainly adds motivation when it gets tough.
As for the people, the sherpas are great. Really fun and unbelievalbe climbers (all about 5 foot and will overtake you on the route with fridges on thier head - literally fridges!) A deck of cards is often a good idea as the Sherpas love to learn games etc.
All in all I'm jealous! You'll have an amazing time! Nepal is a great country and the trek is phenomenal. Good luck and good luck with the record (I think a shortened run up might be an idea!)
Apologies if I have rambled too much above!
>That's OK James.
Keep you posted.
Friday, 20 March 2009
A Good Night.....
We're Off, basically.
Last night saw every man, woman and animal from The Everest Test 09 descend upon London's glitzy Soho for the official launch for the official countdown to the official OFF. Officially.
It was also a chance for mates back home to get more involved, contribute to the overall bonhomie and get a feeling about the gravity and potential of this project now. A lot of hard work had obviously gone into the evening and public thanks to the Events Committee for putting on a great show. Certainly if the comments from my gaggle of mates was a good feel for the overall consensus on the night; impressions were very high indeed.
Walls were covered in alternating pictures from the many events taken place all over the country in the last 9 months or so. There's nothing better than walking into a place like that, with a group of your mates, get given a glass of what can only be described as lychee flavoured kerosene (marvellous by the way), and seeing a picture of my ginger Fat-Head with all its chins taking up the entire wall space. I think my wife's first knee-jerk comment was "uurghh", or something like that as if she had just trodden in a pile of dog-doo. That felt special.
It was great to meet Neil Laughton briefly; the expedition's Patron. I was somewhat in awe of the great man and I'm quite sure I was two sheets to the wind when we chatted briefly but it was great to shake the hand of a genuine legend. I think I'm going a little deaf too as although I realise that these places are hardly quiet; I find myself lip-reading these days a great deal as I genuinely can't hear shit. So I hope when I was crapping on about the Bath Half Marathon it was making sense. It wouldn't be the first time my lip-reading / I can't hear anything techniques have taken me down a conversational wrong way. Apologies if I was indeed talking the proverbial.
Unfortunately, with a babysitter ticking into triple over-time and the fact our last train was impending we had to leave well before stumps but all I can say is that is was a great night. I left with a plastic bracelet cutting off my blood-supply to my right hand, people getting well greased , smiling faces all around and Toovey "dancing" / trying to stay upright and balancing about 8 bottles of beer; you didn't need to be an Aboriginal tracker to say it was probably going to be a great final couple of hours. He didn't spill a drop either. Missed the raffle but if my usual success at cricket club raffles was true to form I could probably live without the Peek Freens shortbread, the can of De-Icer, the Mandarin Whisky, Timmy Mallet's Greatest Hits or the homemade pineapple upside-down cake, on this occasion.
A fitting send-off for the Everest Faithful as they embark on this monumental and record breaking trip.
Keep you posted.
PS - Don't forget Mothers Day.
Last night saw every man, woman and animal from The Everest Test 09 descend upon London's glitzy Soho for the official launch for the official countdown to the official OFF. Officially.
It was also a chance for mates back home to get more involved, contribute to the overall bonhomie and get a feeling about the gravity and potential of this project now. A lot of hard work had obviously gone into the evening and public thanks to the Events Committee for putting on a great show. Certainly if the comments from my gaggle of mates was a good feel for the overall consensus on the night; impressions were very high indeed.
Walls were covered in alternating pictures from the many events taken place all over the country in the last 9 months or so. There's nothing better than walking into a place like that, with a group of your mates, get given a glass of what can only be described as lychee flavoured kerosene (marvellous by the way), and seeing a picture of my ginger Fat-Head with all its chins taking up the entire wall space. I think my wife's first knee-jerk comment was "uurghh", or something like that as if she had just trodden in a pile of dog-doo. That felt special.
It was great to meet Neil Laughton briefly; the expedition's Patron. I was somewhat in awe of the great man and I'm quite sure I was two sheets to the wind when we chatted briefly but it was great to shake the hand of a genuine legend. I think I'm going a little deaf too as although I realise that these places are hardly quiet; I find myself lip-reading these days a great deal as I genuinely can't hear shit. So I hope when I was crapping on about the Bath Half Marathon it was making sense. It wouldn't be the first time my lip-reading / I can't hear anything techniques have taken me down a conversational wrong way. Apologies if I was indeed talking the proverbial.
Unfortunately, with a babysitter ticking into triple over-time and the fact our last train was impending we had to leave well before stumps but all I can say is that is was a great night. I left with a plastic bracelet cutting off my blood-supply to my right hand, people getting well greased , smiling faces all around and Toovey "dancing" / trying to stay upright and balancing about 8 bottles of beer; you didn't need to be an Aboriginal tracker to say it was probably going to be a great final couple of hours. He didn't spill a drop either. Missed the raffle but if my usual success at cricket club raffles was true to form I could probably live without the Peek Freens shortbread, the can of De-Icer, the Mandarin Whisky, Timmy Mallet's Greatest Hits or the homemade pineapple upside-down cake, on this occasion.
A fitting send-off for the Everest Faithful as they embark on this monumental and record breaking trip.
Keep you posted.
PS - Don't forget Mothers Day.
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
A Good Day..
Simon Tonui - Winner Bath Half 09 - one of the best running students I ever had
Errrm. Yup.
Seriously. Can't feel my legs still. Honestly, numb from my child-bearing hips, down. Nothing. Zip. Nil.
What a day. The Bath Half was like a demonic presence in my Everest diary and that every time I thought about it, I wretched. Like in the films when the inexperienced cop was shown the mauled body as the experience cop swishes the blanket off in the Morgue; or like when people came round to my University digs to try out my cheese-fondue all those years ago. Running is bad enough but 13 miles of it, it what turned out to be the hottest day of the year, was hard going and the thought of me doing that a year ago would have been preposterous. My Brother originally suggested it to me many months ago as it would be a good target for my fitness regime to aim for. When I heard that the Everest Test was also thinking the same thoughts there was simply nowhere to hide. Nowhere; and when on Sunday morning we were sitting round his kitchen table; him with a ripped ham-string and me with my ankle and both with very sore heads, the idea of running twice round Bath City Centre and adjoining industrial estates seemed a ridiculous notion. At 9am having been given 2 minutes on the kitchens egg-timer to make our "ffking minds up" -(wives), we decided to take the plunge. Bollocks to it.
I was staggered by the sheer numbers of people milling about; all stretching, queuing for the khazi's or looking for the microscopic free Lucozade van. So many people of all shapes, sizes, and ages and I started to feel just a little better about my chances. The delay of half-an-hour I think put most of us supreme athletes, on edge though. It was like the firing squad just having one last pint before they come outside and blow your brains out.
I had also met up up with some (but not all) of the guys from the Everest Test and Cuzza threw me my Everest Test shirt and a proud feeling was felt. Soon to be followed by a feeling of acute asphyxiation and blood flow loss as the XL top was stretched over my guts as one would stretch cling-film over a half-eaten Christmas ham. However, it felt good to put on an official top like this , I was unable to be at the press-launch and so I haven't had the chance to wear an official piece of kit. It was great to also see that everyone was up for this and to see a few of the guys in full wicket-keeping / batting gear with bat was astonishing. My usual flurry with the bat for my customary 4 at the end of most innings is enough to give me substantial chaff-age but running 13 miles in it is worthy of a Queens mention.
The first few "clicks" (as us professional runners call them) were taken up enjoying the atmosphere with Joe and JB. I think we all secretly wished this nightmare would end shortly and the cheerful conversation started to dwindle at mile 3. In the meantime, the Kenyan guy who eventually won the race, Simon Tonui, came through on his second lap. Quite amazing. "Si" was one of the best running pupils I ever had. Good to see him again; albeit briefly. My right leg went dead soon after Mile 3 and I had to sort myself out and it appeared my shoe laces were tied too tight as my right foot had gone porcelain white with very little blood-flow getting to my toes - err, MEDIC! That was the last I saw of JB but I saw Joe and Vicks a little later in the run. Really the main bulk of the run was under my own steam but it was good to catch-up with Kirt, Hillsy and few of the others, as we all trudged our way round. Hillsy was obviously in a little bit of pain but was very determined with the bit very much between his teeth obviously. I left him behind after a while, under duress, reminiscent of a scene from a very run-of-the-mill, Vietnam war film.
JH - "Go, ..go on, leave me Man, don't worry about me (cough)".
MW - "I won't leave you in this state..I won't..",
JH - "I'll be OK, arrggh, just tell everyone that, aarrggh....that...." ,
MW - "Just keep going, take it easy, drink, take on fluid"
JH - "I'll, I'll......arggh....tell ma folks.....tell them...aaagghhhh."
MW - "Hiiiilllllssseeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy..........."
With that he was swallowed up by a wave of runners made up of Scooby-Doo, Batman and Robin, 4 guys wearing pink Tutu's tied together, a Rhinoceros, a bloke that looked as though he was about to blow-up, a group of OAP's and other more normal runners with inappropriate shorts. I didn't see him again.
As I neared the 13 mile mark is became apparent that the heat had become too much for some and, having never done anything like this before, it was weird and a little disturbing jumping over strewn bodies of people under heat blankets and attended to by the ambulance services, lying in their own waste. Very similar to Stevenage town centre on a Friday night I mulled, and no less unpleasant. More surprisingly was that I wasn't one of them. The last few miles I had to take easy and I had to walk on and off. My legs were basically done in every joint-zone and the arches of my feet were becoming very painful. My ankle is still relatively painful and I will be starting to lay off the hard-core running / training now. The trip is too close and a bad ankle will make my trip very unpleasant indeed. This, for me, was the big one. I'm not finished but I am conscious that we should be aware of keeping injury at bay.
I think all those that did manage to run on Sunday managed a great achievement and more importantly we all did it without having to call on the emergency services. A list below of runners from the Everest Test and times. G-Man and Charlie C (freaks) nailing it about 1hr 30min. Unbelievable really. No particular order and (p) stands for those wearing kit.
Richard Kirtley (p) (2:21)
Jonathan Hill (p) (2:25)
Lucy Brooks (2:19)
Helen Curr (2:18)
Alex Fudakowska (2:18)
Vicks Nicholson (2:25)
Jules Staveley (2:02)
Joe Williams (2:25)
Ben Jarman (1:51)
Chris Martin (1:51)
Gareth Lewis (1:33)
Charlie Campbell (1:38)
Racing Snake (2:18)
James Butler (2:13)
Glen Lowis (p) (2:17)
Russell De Beer(p) (2:17)
Friends of the trip:
The General (1:48)
Iain Curr (2:17)
Will Hanson (1:46)
Laura Hewitt (2:19)
Charlie Perrin (2:24)
Laura Bridges (1:55)
And so it was that my first Half Marathon was completed. I was in pain sure, but I wasn't dead and even I experienced a funny voice in my head that said something like; "let's do it again, someday". I think I may have answered verbally, like a wierdo you keep well away from on the tube, with "Shut up, Idiot" or something like that. Only a few people turned to look at me but it could be blamed on heat-stroke and I hope the "lets do it again" feeling passes. I received my "much looked forward to" goody bag which consisted of a T-Shirt (too big), a small, unsubstantial cereal bar, some sort Granola bar that tasted much like I imagine a diving board would, some T-Bags (I forgot to take my kettle running though so in this instance proved to completely useless), some cranberry jam (which didn't prove all that handy after the race surprisingly either), and a meddle with no mention of Bath anywhere on it - no family bucket, no lager, no painkillers.
But the T-Shirt is proof enough.
The atmosphere of the day was terrific and Bath is such a great place; even if it is to run around in it. If I was going to do this sort of ridiculous activity, Bath would be where I would want to do it. The crowds were great and really cheered you on, Abi and my kids apparentely cheered me on (I never saw them), and Cuzza shouting something like "Come on you Fat .........................." in the home straight. It was all great to hear and all really concentrated the mind in just getting to the finish line and getting this preposterous activity over with.
Long story but I drove home after the race; a good 3.5 hours, with my eldest particularly enjoying the standstill traffic for 45 minutes just to get out of Bath city centre and inventing a game called "More Tea!" whereby Mummy and Daddy had to recount every item of edible food ever found to the same tune as "The Wheels On The Bus...".
So,
This lasted from the M4 junction at Bath up until she got into bed at home. Enough was enough for a Sunday.
So two days later, the fog has lifted a little and the pain is subsiding, ... just. The start of the trip is seriously so close now and after these fitness milestones it's now, hopefully, all mustard from here up until the 9th April. The next date is the farewell party on Thursday and that should be a great night with good mates coming see a little more about what it's all about;.....and some free booze of course.
To my readers in Cambodia, I will pass on details of the logistics of the trip after our final trip meeting on the 28th.
Keep you posted.
Friday, 13 March 2009
Hard Yakka and Yakking Hard
Another eventful week draws to an end and we get ever closer to April 9th.
Last weekend saw the Tenzing Machine roll-up together for another fine tuning session in Dulwich. Cardio nets, shuttle-running and a general "get-together" to make sure that we, as a group, had thought about everything before April gets too close. Many thanks to Mike Preston for hosting the day on Sunday and for arranging the facilities at Dulwich College.
SatNav guided me into Dulwich quite beautifully and I reached the front door of Mike's one up, one down , high-rise, local authority maisonette in about 1 hour 30 minutes; not a bad run all things considered. The team promptly changed and we filled our ruck-sacks full of as much cricket equipment as we could find and set off for a "light" run to Dulwich College where the Sports Hall was all Tenzing's for the next two hours. The light run consisted of two 1:3 hills which had immediate effects on the legs, breathing and all round running enthusiasm and this was followed by a hard session of "breathless-nets" with considerable amounts of shuttle-running for both bowlers and batsmen, leg-strength work and basically all over body-abuse mixed in with the usual nets format. The quicker bowlers were instructed to come off much smaller runs; a matter of a couple of paces really and the batsman told to work hard at not getting out and getting used to the helmets and body armour they may not be as used to. Tenzing showed its collective teeth with some aggressive bowling, a bit of chin symphony and short stuff thrown down and the batsman showed dogged determination about not giving their wicket away. Wickets came by good balls and not rank shots; a good sign that we are not treating the game lightly and that everyone was really applying themselves. A little bit of light ground fielding to let off a bit of steam and throw some hard balls at those backing the throws up, finished our session. I think most of us were fairly well rinsed after two hours. Then JC turned up.
A quick run back saw us arrive at Mike's just as the wonderful view of London disappeared behind a cloud of utter shite and the BBQ I don't think ever got lit. One small niggle of the day was the lack of food when we got back to Mike's; just a small bowl of indistinguishable nuts is all I managed to scrape together; no meat of any description, no potatoes, not even salad, sweet f8ck all, basically.
Seriously, Mike and his wife could have built an extension with the amount of food they produced for us. Quite brilliant and mucho thanks again.
A wonderfully easy drive back home at at about 6pm, having not been sent completely the wrong way at all by the car's navigation system. It definitely didn't take me over an hour to get across the river. I certainly wasn't stuck in The City for about 40 minutes and I absolutely wanted to go towards Whitechapel and Stansted Airport. There's always a plus side; I saw the Tower of London.......twice and I just got back in time for my wife to produce what from the oven?............................................................................................meat.
Tuesday night saw me sit my much anticipated Umpires Exam. I met up with with the group at Letchworth CC and found out that there had been a room clash with about 100 runners having taken up the usual room. I therefore had to sit the exam in Letchworth CC's Second Eleven changing room. Nice. Being very experienced in cricket changing room shenanigans over the years and didn't want to know what was on the walls, on my seat or why my foot was stuck to the lino. However, we made the best out of a bad job and we walked through the exam, question by bloody question for nearly 2 hours. 75 questions in total, 60 right for a pass. First question..................ahhh, bollocks.
My heart sank. You know an LBW when you see one but why is it out.....................ahhh, bollocks. My heart just kept getting lower. However, a few questions like the one's on no-balls, wides, hard drinking games and famous streakers made me think that this might be OK. I've bowled enough no-balls in my time (16 in one match I seem to remember) to know when a ball is good or not. I've also played and lost enough drinking games to know when a Fuzzy Duck is a Ducky Fuzz (does he?), that 19, 20, 21 is Drink, Please, Thankyou and Whizz just carries on, Bounce misses the next person and Boing bounces back. Pay attention. Long story short, 62 right or 83% achieved which constitutes a pass in my book, as well as the ECB's. Job Done...just. I just hope, in some respects, that I'm not called upon to don the coat on the mountain as the game itself is my aim. I'm glad I've done it though and I look forward to discussing to rudiments of acceptable sledging and what my favourite boiled sweet is over a half of weak bitter with my "colleague", during the next cricket season.
The Bath Half is two days away now. My ankle is still uncomfortable but my Doctor thinks my pain is just bruising and not anything more serious. I would be lying if a little part of me, deep down, didn't squeak out a little "......damn", when the diagnosis was given. I feel that I should give it a go and if the pain gets too high or the interest gets too low, then I have given it a bash. So close to "lift-off" I do not want to risk anything now and the thought of having a painful ankle walking up to Everest isn't worth thinking about. I can always do the Bath Half next year.
No, I wasn't convinced by that either.
As a foot-note it was interesting to watch the Comic Relief team walk up Kilimanjaro last night. Very interesting to see who reacted in what way to the altitude and to see what the best way to combat it was. Chris Moyles breezed it with Ferne Cotton looking like shit for most of the way up. But all made it - the speed of their walking in some instances was comically slow but this is obviously how to ride this out. It gave me a really good insight into what we may experience - the sensation of being drunk, the head getting tighter, the need for water, and of paramount of importance was the need for a very slow approach and a sunny outlook. Some days it will be shit but the rewards will be well worth it and the obvious sense of achievement felt by these guys, who incidentally had only been training for just 6 months, was obvious to see.
Last weekend saw the Tenzing Machine roll-up together for another fine tuning session in Dulwich. Cardio nets, shuttle-running and a general "get-together" to make sure that we, as a group, had thought about everything before April gets too close. Many thanks to Mike Preston for hosting the day on Sunday and for arranging the facilities at Dulwich College.
SatNav guided me into Dulwich quite beautifully and I reached the front door of Mike's one up, one down , high-rise, local authority maisonette in about 1 hour 30 minutes; not a bad run all things considered. The team promptly changed and we filled our ruck-sacks full of as much cricket equipment as we could find and set off for a "light" run to Dulwich College where the Sports Hall was all Tenzing's for the next two hours. The light run consisted of two 1:3 hills which had immediate effects on the legs, breathing and all round running enthusiasm and this was followed by a hard session of "breathless-nets" with considerable amounts of shuttle-running for both bowlers and batsmen, leg-strength work and basically all over body-abuse mixed in with the usual nets format. The quicker bowlers were instructed to come off much smaller runs; a matter of a couple of paces really and the batsman told to work hard at not getting out and getting used to the helmets and body armour they may not be as used to. Tenzing showed its collective teeth with some aggressive bowling, a bit of chin symphony and short stuff thrown down and the batsman showed dogged determination about not giving their wicket away. Wickets came by good balls and not rank shots; a good sign that we are not treating the game lightly and that everyone was really applying themselves. A little bit of light ground fielding to let off a bit of steam and throw some hard balls at those backing the throws up, finished our session. I think most of us were fairly well rinsed after two hours. Then JC turned up.
A quick run back saw us arrive at Mike's just as the wonderful view of London disappeared behind a cloud of utter shite and the BBQ I don't think ever got lit. One small niggle of the day was the lack of food when we got back to Mike's; just a small bowl of indistinguishable nuts is all I managed to scrape together; no meat of any description, no potatoes, not even salad, sweet f8ck all, basically.
Seriously, Mike and his wife could have built an extension with the amount of food they produced for us. Quite brilliant and mucho thanks again.
A wonderfully easy drive back home at at about 6pm, having not been sent completely the wrong way at all by the car's navigation system. It definitely didn't take me over an hour to get across the river. I certainly wasn't stuck in The City for about 40 minutes and I absolutely wanted to go towards Whitechapel and Stansted Airport. There's always a plus side; I saw the Tower of London.......twice and I just got back in time for my wife to produce what from the oven?............................................................................................meat.
Tuesday night saw me sit my much anticipated Umpires Exam. I met up with with the group at Letchworth CC and found out that there had been a room clash with about 100 runners having taken up the usual room. I therefore had to sit the exam in Letchworth CC's Second Eleven changing room. Nice. Being very experienced in cricket changing room shenanigans over the years and didn't want to know what was on the walls, on my seat or why my foot was stuck to the lino. However, we made the best out of a bad job and we walked through the exam, question by bloody question for nearly 2 hours. 75 questions in total, 60 right for a pass. First question..................ahhh, bollocks.
My heart sank. You know an LBW when you see one but why is it out.....................ahhh, bollocks. My heart just kept getting lower. However, a few questions like the one's on no-balls, wides, hard drinking games and famous streakers made me think that this might be OK. I've bowled enough no-balls in my time (16 in one match I seem to remember) to know when a ball is good or not. I've also played and lost enough drinking games to know when a Fuzzy Duck is a Ducky Fuzz (does he?), that 19, 20, 21 is Drink, Please, Thankyou and Whizz just carries on, Bounce misses the next person and Boing bounces back. Pay attention. Long story short, 62 right or 83% achieved which constitutes a pass in my book, as well as the ECB's. Job Done...just. I just hope, in some respects, that I'm not called upon to don the coat on the mountain as the game itself is my aim. I'm glad I've done it though and I look forward to discussing to rudiments of acceptable sledging and what my favourite boiled sweet is over a half of weak bitter with my "colleague", during the next cricket season.
The Bath Half is two days away now. My ankle is still uncomfortable but my Doctor thinks my pain is just bruising and not anything more serious. I would be lying if a little part of me, deep down, didn't squeak out a little "......damn", when the diagnosis was given. I feel that I should give it a go and if the pain gets too high or the interest gets too low, then I have given it a bash. So close to "lift-off" I do not want to risk anything now and the thought of having a painful ankle walking up to Everest isn't worth thinking about. I can always do the Bath Half next year.
No, I wasn't convinced by that either.
As a foot-note it was interesting to watch the Comic Relief team walk up Kilimanjaro last night. Very interesting to see who reacted in what way to the altitude and to see what the best way to combat it was. Chris Moyles breezed it with Ferne Cotton looking like shit for most of the way up. But all made it - the speed of their walking in some instances was comically slow but this is obviously how to ride this out. It gave me a really good insight into what we may experience - the sensation of being drunk, the head getting tighter, the need for water, and of paramount of importance was the need for a very slow approach and a sunny outlook. Some days it will be shit but the rewards will be well worth it and the obvious sense of achievement felt by these guys, who incidentally had only been training for just 6 months, was obvious to see.
Friday, 6 March 2009
Bricking It...........................
13 miles...............................
Shit.
I haven't been able to think about much else, I'll be honest. This is the one thing that looms over my Everest trip, like a vampire bat that's about to drop onto my head - (what?...?!, sorry). This is the final hurdle that I need to get over before I can savour the excitement leading up to our departure in just over a month. The Everest Test has a great turn-out for the Bath Half which is amazing considering that most of us would rather cut our arms off with a cricket bat than run 13 miles. I understand that the field will be over 8000. I've never come last place in a field of 8000 before but y'know, there's always a first time.
I even have dreams.
Great Pulteney Street. The last remaining loaming of daylight.
The road sweepers finishing up for the day and leaning up against their brooms and having a pull on their rolled up fags. Another fantastic race; over for another year, they say to themselves. The pubs lining the route are full of cheerful runners and supporters, all pretty well greased now and enjoying the camaraderie of race day. Singing boisterous songs with celebratory arms round each other, raising their glasses to the Gods of Half Marathons and singing predictable songs like Sweet Chariot. Then the sound of very heavy; heavingly heavy breathing; more like a rumble. Like that bit in Jurassic Park when the big lizard hasn't turned up and the cup of water goes all rippley. Then the sound of water bottle tables being up-turned and the flocks of Starling taking flight from their evening roost.
Shit.
I haven't been able to think about much else, I'll be honest. This is the one thing that looms over my Everest trip, like a vampire bat that's about to drop onto my head - (what?...?!, sorry). This is the final hurdle that I need to get over before I can savour the excitement leading up to our departure in just over a month. The Everest Test has a great turn-out for the Bath Half which is amazing considering that most of us would rather cut our arms off with a cricket bat than run 13 miles. I understand that the field will be over 8000. I've never come last place in a field of 8000 before but y'know, there's always a first time.
I even have dreams.
Great Pulteney Street. The last remaining loaming of daylight.
The road sweepers finishing up for the day and leaning up against their brooms and having a pull on their rolled up fags. Another fantastic race; over for another year, they say to themselves. The pubs lining the route are full of cheerful runners and supporters, all pretty well greased now and enjoying the camaraderie of race day. Singing boisterous songs with celebratory arms round each other, raising their glasses to the Gods of Half Marathons and singing predictable songs like Sweet Chariot. Then the sound of very heavy; heavingly heavy breathing; more like a rumble. Like that bit in Jurassic Park when the big lizard hasn't turned up and the cup of water goes all rippley. Then the sound of water bottle tables being up-turned and the flocks of Starling taking flight from their evening roost.
A violent, wheezing sound now; a broken, unholy sound that reminds one of a Boeing 747 backfiring whilst taxiing in Wookey Hole. There. The silhouette of single, final and very lonely "runner", clutching at anything he can to make it up the final straight to the unmanned finishing line. Literally dragging himself by the lips along the final straight. The timer was turned off ages ago; Timex don't make a watch that goes up that high. All of a sudden the pubs spill out onto Gt Pulteney Street and picking up any old rubbish they can find, everyone hurls it - plastic bottles, banana skins, shoes, small animals, kitchen appliances; everything - at my head; the old, ginger, fat-head for being too crap, too slow and basically far too pale for any form of competitive sport.
I've been reading a few of the online reviews about the Bath Half on websites such as "I Love Running" and "Aaaahhhhh, Pain Monthly" and it had a review section that I had a shufty at.
Comments such as .........
- "the Bath Half course is really quite a fast course; much better than the Amsterdam Half Marathon LOL :), and that a PB is well on the cards :0)"
and,
- "not one to gripe but there was a 1/2 second discrepancy between my watch and the official race timer. Not Happy. Ggrr :( ." .............T:)at.
Also,
- "Nice start, nice finish but two lap format made it somewhat boring" - Perhaps "Bored of Slough" should have juggled miniature poodles round the course maybe or run it whilst drinking a glass of water singing "I Shot the Sherriff".
as well as,
- " A PB, crowd cheering you on and even a band to keep your spirits up. Plenty of Drink stations and plenty of drinks for everyone. (Hurray - ed.)
in addition to,
- "The corner at the end of the start straight is quite tight and so there is some fun and games :)Then it's on to the rest of the course. The change going around Queen square was positive and I personally liked not going around the estate. (Full of pikey's, I'd expect) The crowd were so good and the weather was even good. Slight wind but that's what you get around bath :( I got my PB and so liked it, I am entering Bristol and see how it compares. (Probably should have stopped after the second time round Bath, to be honest).
Finally,
- "The goody bag at the end was top notch." If its anything short of containing Valium, lager and a Family Bucket, I will be disappointed.
This run for these guys will be over in just over an hour.
I will be lucky to make it round with both my legs still under my arse in 5 hours, to be honest.
Week on Sunday.
Shit.
I then wake up, bolt upright, dripping in sweat; guts wrenching as if on a herring trawler. Similar to the feeling of having just had a lamb madras from the Raj Douth in Hitchin - http://www.rajdouth.com
You'll just have to trust me on that.
I've been reading a few of the online reviews about the Bath Half on websites such as "I Love Running" and "Aaaahhhhh, Pain Monthly" and it had a review section that I had a shufty at.
Comments such as .........
- "the Bath Half course is really quite a fast course; much better than the Amsterdam Half Marathon LOL :), and that a PB is well on the cards :0)"
and,
- "not one to gripe but there was a 1/2 second discrepancy between my watch and the official race timer. Not Happy. Ggrr :( ." .............T:)at.
Also,
- "Nice start, nice finish but two lap format made it somewhat boring" - Perhaps "Bored of Slough" should have juggled miniature poodles round the course maybe or run it whilst drinking a glass of water singing "I Shot the Sherriff".
as well as,
- " A PB, crowd cheering you on and even a band to keep your spirits up. Plenty of Drink stations and plenty of drinks for everyone. (Hurray - ed.)
in addition to,
- "The corner at the end of the start straight is quite tight and so there is some fun and games :)Then it's on to the rest of the course. The change going around Queen square was positive and I personally liked not going around the estate. (Full of pikey's, I'd expect) The crowd were so good and the weather was even good. Slight wind but that's what you get around bath :( I got my PB and so liked it, I am entering Bristol and see how it compares. (Probably should have stopped after the second time round Bath, to be honest).
Finally,
- "The goody bag at the end was top notch." If its anything short of containing Valium, lager and a Family Bucket, I will be disappointed.
This run for these guys will be over in just over an hour.
I will be lucky to make it round with both my legs still under my arse in 5 hours, to be honest.
Week on Sunday.
Shit.
Friday, 27 February 2009
Higher, Higher, Faster, Faster...You Tenzing B**t**ds
Phewwweeeeyyy.
Since the last time I posted, the Tenzing Juggernaut has been put through it's post Christmas paces - We've been fired-up, gunned, tuned-up , greased, tinkered with "under the bonnet" (!), kicked in the Puds and made all together more damn hungry that we were before; absolutely nothing to do with the pub being shut, either.
Last Saturday we descended on to G-Unit's house in rural Oxfordshire for a unknown get-together and an unknown workout, held in an unknown location; the details of which can not be disclosed. Sufficed to say that the cage in the The Deer Hunter was a Butlins Clam-Bake compared to this. A cross country run got the blood pumping, some had blood pumping slightly more than others and the run stretched on for many miles interspersed with cardio activity which had many of us face down, in the cow sh*t, gulping for air.
Next, we were jumping into the cars to said secret location for further close examination of where we were in our fitness. Serious Hard work. The sweat combined with some anger and, in some instances, blood was literally seeping down the walls of our "secret location" as relentless shuttle sprints took place followed by acute, cardio activity which basically started at 2pm and finished at 7pm.
http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=en&rlz=1G1GGLQ_ENUK317&ei=eh2oSaa8GYS2jAf7_5n0Dw&resnum=1&q=piddington+stokenchurch+map&um=1&ie=UTF-8&split=0&gl=uk&ei=fR2oSYPMLtSujAeBgbXbDw&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&resnum=1&ct=title
Our idea for a pub lunch hit some unexpected turbulence as we made our way from pub to pub to pub due to unforseen people issues and, finally, we stumbled upon a quaint little place; nestled off the road; with a fine selection of spring ales, oak beams that one had to duck underneath, some old poachers blowing roll-up smoke in each others face in the corner, a game of cribbage in the gloomy, comfortable snug and Romany Folk rubbing the communal Rubbings - actually it was an Indian "all-you-can-force-feed-yourself" buffet called the Mowchak, which , in hindsight, was just what the Doctor ordered. Forget your choice of Roasts with accompanying side order of vegetables - the Lads wanted luke-warm Bhuna's, ........and pronto.
A great weekend and thanks to G-Man for getting this sorted and for letting us bludge on his floor for the weekend. I think those that could make it found it really useful and a great opportunity to get to know each other a little more and put "everything" through some serious pain.
Last Tuesday the Everest Test had its Umpires Exam back at Caterham School. Stories have bounded around the various email systems of the six of us, all week. Due to the trains being even more inefficient than usual, I never made it. The following morning my apologies were sent to the five that did make it. Apparently, it wasn't the comfortable walk in the park that we all thought it would be and from what I can gather; it was very tough. It seems that when the Teachers on the course kept on saying "This will never happen" and, " Don't worry, I have only ever seen this happen once in 100 years of umpiring", what they actually meant was, "make sure you learn this bit backwards as 99.7% of the exam will be based on the ludicrous piece of"shammy" law that never, repeat, never ffking happens". It seems that this caught some of us unawares, unsurprisingly. Obviously, in hindsight, I now know little about what to expect and I am now booked into a similar exam far more locally to me on the 10th March. Fingers crossed.
This coming weekend is a rare chance to catch-up with everything else, which I am looking forward to. I will take my daughters swimming and within 20 minutes will probably wish I was being beaten with a sh**ty stick again, half way to hell, as I was the week before, no doubt. A "shin-splint" has kept me off serious work-outs this week but I will back on the horse next week and the ever omnipresent Bath Half still looms.
On a more sombre note, I received some bad news while away last weekend. My cricket club lost a real friend and close supporter over the weekend after a short illness, which I think has knocked us all a little as far as I can gather, so I will be catching up with members of the club too. The Funeral is on the 9th March so I have made my apologies for my absence on the 9th.
Next Sunday, Tenzing will be seeing how good Mike Preston's cooking is.
Since the last time I posted, the Tenzing Juggernaut has been put through it's post Christmas paces - We've been fired-up, gunned, tuned-up , greased, tinkered with "under the bonnet" (!), kicked in the Puds and made all together more damn hungry that we were before; absolutely nothing to do with the pub being shut, either.
Last Saturday we descended on to G-Unit's house in rural Oxfordshire for a unknown get-together and an unknown workout, held in an unknown location; the details of which can not be disclosed. Sufficed to say that the cage in the The Deer Hunter was a Butlins Clam-Bake compared to this. A cross country run got the blood pumping, some had blood pumping slightly more than others and the run stretched on for many miles interspersed with cardio activity which had many of us face down, in the cow sh*t, gulping for air.
Next, we were jumping into the cars to said secret location for further close examination of where we were in our fitness. Serious Hard work. The sweat combined with some anger and, in some instances, blood was literally seeping down the walls of our "secret location" as relentless shuttle sprints took place followed by acute, cardio activity which basically started at 2pm and finished at 7pm.
Our thanks must go to Gun Sgt XXX and Staff Sgnt XXX of XXXXXXXXXXX Battalion for putting us through what was probably the best way to lose weight since the Guillotine. This was also a test on Tenzing's resolve and being able to handle intense pressure in a specially designed programme of activity, originally, as we discovered, designed for the French Foreign Legion and to see how the head-cogs work whilst being put to the test under constricting conditions. A resounding success would be my verdict and an excellent lesson. I'm glad we did it but I'm glad I can at least feel one of my legs now. I just hope Hillary have put themselves through similar programmes; I'm sure that they have.
The following day was a slightly more relaxed affair; most of us slipping into unconsciousness at about midnight the night before with one or two of us crying ourselves to sleep. G-Man had the Snorkers under the Old George Formby early doors and once these were wolfed down it was into the customary 4X4's for a yomp, up and over a particular section of the Chilterns. On "Maps" were G-Man and Kinsey and the rest followed up, taking the air and discussing Tooves' ice cream from the night before and what the waitress had to "flick" if he didn't eat it, or something like that. Our aim was to yomp, at a good lick, for about 30km and to be on the road Home for about 4pm, dispersing in our various directions. The day was great fun and hard work combined. Several times we came across deserted Pikey campsites that just simply reeked of teen slasher movies ; Tooves was quickly and ceremoniously put on "Point" for these inbred-ly tricky sections; so should the anticipated "Leatherface" turn up with his chainsaw and unfortunate facial rash, we could offer Tooves up as the Starter and the rest of us could run for it.
The following day was a slightly more relaxed affair; most of us slipping into unconsciousness at about midnight the night before with one or two of us crying ourselves to sleep. G-Man had the Snorkers under the Old George Formby early doors and once these were wolfed down it was into the customary 4X4's for a yomp, up and over a particular section of the Chilterns. On "Maps" were G-Man and Kinsey and the rest followed up, taking the air and discussing Tooves' ice cream from the night before and what the waitress had to "flick" if he didn't eat it, or something like that. Our aim was to yomp, at a good lick, for about 30km and to be on the road Home for about 4pm, dispersing in our various directions. The day was great fun and hard work combined. Several times we came across deserted Pikey campsites that just simply reeked of teen slasher movies ; Tooves was quickly and ceremoniously put on "Point" for these inbred-ly tricky sections; so should the anticipated "Leatherface" turn up with his chainsaw and unfortunate facial rash, we could offer Tooves up as the Starter and the rest of us could run for it.
I wanted to follow Butler as he had the wine-gums.
Anyone who has ever walked sections of the Chilterns will know that there is no in-between here. It's either Fenland flat or completely vertical and some of the "up" sections of the yomp were furiously intense. One climb that led us up to Bledlow Ridge CC (a great club by the way and one my club Preston CC plays the last day of their annual tour) was very hard work and it gave us an idea of what your legs may feel like; this combined with the oxygen depletion we will experience gave us an idea, albeit small, into what conditions over certain sections could be like. Another plus is the amount to see in the area - landscape, wildlife, etc. The countryside is about as good as inland Southern England will be able to throw at you. Red Kites were bred by the RSPB and released here a few years ago and there are literally hundreds now gli..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Sorry, sent myself off then.
Anyone who has ever walked sections of the Chilterns will know that there is no in-between here. It's either Fenland flat or completely vertical and some of the "up" sections of the yomp were furiously intense. One climb that led us up to Bledlow Ridge CC (a great club by the way and one my club Preston CC plays the last day of their annual tour) was very hard work and it gave us an idea of what your legs may feel like; this combined with the oxygen depletion we will experience gave us an idea, albeit small, into what conditions over certain sections could be like. Another plus is the amount to see in the area - landscape, wildlife, etc. The countryside is about as good as inland Southern England will be able to throw at you. Red Kites were bred by the RSPB and released here a few years ago and there are literally hundreds now gli..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz Sorry, sent myself off then.
Anyway, it's pretty stunning and I would recommend a hike if the desire takes you one day. You must also go and see the "Christmas Decorations" house from Hell itself; that nestles in Beacons Bottom. The property that single handledly brought about the housing crash, the Great Depression and sunk the Titanic.
http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=en&rlz=1G1GGLQ_ENUK317&ei=eh2oSaa8GYS2jAf7_5n0Dw&resnum=1&q=piddington+stokenchurch+map&um=1&ie=UTF-8&split=0&gl=uk&ei=fR2oSYPMLtSujAeBgbXbDw&sa=X&oi=geocode_result&resnum=1&ct=title
Our idea for a pub lunch hit some unexpected turbulence as we made our way from pub to pub to pub due to unforseen people issues and, finally, we stumbled upon a quaint little place; nestled off the road; with a fine selection of spring ales, oak beams that one had to duck underneath, some old poachers blowing roll-up smoke in each others face in the corner, a game of cribbage in the gloomy, comfortable snug and Romany Folk rubbing the communal Rubbings - actually it was an Indian "all-you-can-force-feed-yourself" buffet called the Mowchak, which , in hindsight, was just what the Doctor ordered. Forget your choice of Roasts with accompanying side order of vegetables - the Lads wanted luke-warm Bhuna's, ........and pronto.
A great weekend and thanks to G-Man for getting this sorted and for letting us bludge on his floor for the weekend. I think those that could make it found it really useful and a great opportunity to get to know each other a little more and put "everything" through some serious pain.
Last Tuesday the Everest Test had its Umpires Exam back at Caterham School. Stories have bounded around the various email systems of the six of us, all week. Due to the trains being even more inefficient than usual, I never made it. The following morning my apologies were sent to the five that did make it. Apparently, it wasn't the comfortable walk in the park that we all thought it would be and from what I can gather; it was very tough. It seems that when the Teachers on the course kept on saying "This will never happen" and, " Don't worry, I have only ever seen this happen once in 100 years of umpiring", what they actually meant was, "make sure you learn this bit backwards as 99.7% of the exam will be based on the ludicrous piece of"shammy" law that never, repeat, never ffking happens". It seems that this caught some of us unawares, unsurprisingly. Obviously, in hindsight, I now know little about what to expect and I am now booked into a similar exam far more locally to me on the 10th March. Fingers crossed.
This coming weekend is a rare chance to catch-up with everything else, which I am looking forward to. I will take my daughters swimming and within 20 minutes will probably wish I was being beaten with a sh**ty stick again, half way to hell, as I was the week before, no doubt. A "shin-splint" has kept me off serious work-outs this week but I will back on the horse next week and the ever omnipresent Bath Half still looms.
On a more sombre note, I received some bad news while away last weekend. My cricket club lost a real friend and close supporter over the weekend after a short illness, which I think has knocked us all a little as far as I can gather, so I will be catching up with members of the club too. The Funeral is on the 9th March so I have made my apologies for my absence on the 9th.
Next Sunday, Tenzing will be seeing how good Mike Preston's cooking is.
Footnote - we have also just been informed that ITN will be sending a cameraman on the expedition and there will be regular slot on the nightly ITN news while we are away. Sensational.
Keep you posted.
Keep you posted.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)