August

[Sweder]

Good point well made, though I suspect the big man will view Friday as a warm-up . . .

Monday's good. I suspect we'll see a goalfest, albeit one in favour of the visitors

[Seafront Plodder]

err....what exactly have I signed up to? :o

[Sweder]

Monday afternoon, Lewes v Ebbsfleet at the Pan followed by a 'hydrational cultural tour of historic Lewes' and in all probability a late night supper of Asian extraction. I mentioned it briefly just before your final with Whoppers at Seaford Head . . . silly of me to expect you to recall that seeing as how your eyes were glued together and your teeth still hurt from the previous evening

[Sweder]

More medal madness, this time in the Bird’s Nest. Pinch me, I’m dreaming!

Highlight for me was watching slack-jawed as Christine Ohuruogu swooped from nowhere to grasp gold from Four Hundred favourite Sanya Richards. Time stood still; I yelled in disbelief, up on my feet, arms wide, eyes wider as the field hit treacle and Ohuruogu hit the front, powering through into Olympic history. The heart-stopping finish was only marginally less teeth-grindingly close than her wafer-thin victory over the same big game choker in the World Champs last year.

Whatever your opinion on sport grabbing the headlines how good it felt, just for once, to have a wholly positive lead on the Ten O’clock News. And in this increasingly multiracial society where black Britons get a lean time in the mean red-tops how refreshing to see the beaming smile of a young black woman illuminating this hugely positive story.

There is of course a footnote; well, boot-print really. Ohuruogu managed to miss three consecutive drugs tests a few years back, earning an automatic ban only recently overturned following protracted legal tussling. Fellow finalist Richards had publicly declared Ohuruogu ‘lucky to be in Beijing’, adding extra spice to this Asian showdown. One might detect the ugly waft of hypocrisy in my celebrating her win, especially after my public denouncement of Dwayne Chambers as a drugs cheat rightly denied a ticket to Beijing. You can argue the finer points, missing tests versus actually using drugs to gain an advantage, but there are those in sport who can’t stomach the presence of either. I watched the commentators out there in the stadium, people like Michael Johnson, Colin Jackson and Brighton’s own Steve Ovett, listened to the excellent and often outspoken Steve Cram. To a man they celebrated unreservedly, praising Christine’s incredible performance and redoubtable heart. They were genuinely, eye-wateringly happy for her; that’s good enough for me.



It seems coming back from the brink is nothing new to Christine Ohuruogu.
What a gal.

USA, USA . . .

A mate of mine out in California complained bitterly this week that the US national broadcasters declined blanket live coverage of the games, with the unsurprising exception of the aquatic Phelps-fest. They get a heavily edited highlights package focused entirely on American successes. Sounds familiar; the BBC go mouth-foaming GB-crazy in their nightly round-up, but I do find it curious. I’m frequently told by American colleagues that the USA is the most sports-mad nation on the planet. It's my duty to point out with a weary sigh that the sports they tend to go maddest about are such renowned ‘world’ events as baseball, basketball and their own bastardised version of rugby, Gridiron. They're all good enough in their place I suppose, it's just that their place is within the confines of North America. I've always felt that if you can take part whilst chewing gum - or for that matter chewing tobacco - it just ain't cricket, or even sport.

If more than three countries are involved our transatlantic cousins get decidedly chilly feet. Chin up lads; you’re miles ahead of Russia in the medals table, a point surely not lost on Dubya as he pokes the grouchy Georgia-crushing Grizzly with Condee, his jet-setting sharp stick.

[stillwaddler]

Sorry, I am behind with all RC posts at the moment, so have only just seen your Steadman one - wow, I'm green with envy.

On the knee front, hope everything is going well with the physio? have you bought the bike yet? The Paris trip sounds fascinating, looking forward to hearing more.

[Sweder]

Not a report as such; the sweaty flog up Landsport Bottom, barely a 2 mile round trip, doesn't warrant one. Much less the inelegant thrashing of underworked limbs bearing an overfed paunch. Suffice to say I picked up the bike, an entry-level Dawes off-roader, this afternoon. I learned two things fairly quickly;

1. Cycling your opening half-mile uphill is as debilitating as running the same path, and
2. You can lose an astonishing amount of fitness in four weeks.

C'est la vie; at least I'm engaging the sweat glands again. It'll take several weeks to build proficiency on this new machine but I already sense it's going to be fun. Selah!

[Sweder]

A couple of two-wheeled adventures to Blackcap have thrown up some interesting stats. Today’s run timed out at 43 minutes 58 seconds – pretty much my average running time for the course over the past year. Allowing for excess poundage and current absence of training times should come down soon enough. Of more import is the lack of fatigue in my redundant legs; this cycling lark seems to be the perfect answer to my delinquent knee. Aerobically I was pretty much knackered after two hundred yards. The free-wheeling kamikaze return run required little pedal power, although the plummet off the Cap (at around twenty mph) proved hair-raising in more ways than one as tears were torn from half-shut eyes. My internal organs tumbled like Wednesday’s washing, the hard-ridged unyielding ground fully testing my bike’s hydraulic forks as well as my ability to hang on for grim death. The sling shot up Mount Harry offered blessed relief, rapid, barely controllable forward motion succumbing to the gravitational pull on my substantial girth, held as surely as the Millenium Falcon gripped in the Death Star's tractor beam. My backside, although currently amply padded, has taken a fearful beating on these rocky trails. I'm hoping the pain will recede with my bulk as the sessions continue. That or I'll be obliged to trade the wicked, razor-sharp saddle in for a miniaturised armchair or a whoopee cushion.

With no running on the immediate horizon I feel it prudent to shelve all race plans until further notice. At least daily peddling should halt the slide into physical decrepitude. The alternative, cutting back on pub visits or – gulp – embracing dietary control is unthinkable.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Agreed. Cycling is preferable to cutting back on the booze. Very sensible, Mr. Sweder. And you can't lose your license for drink/cycling. Not that I'm condoning it of course... but I have to confess it's got me home (relatively) safely a few times.

[Sweder]

Another outing on the bike, an early pre-work puff-fest to Blackcap.
I took Alice Cooper with me in the hope that his eclectic selections would drive me up those infernal slopes. As it happened he played Whole Lotta Love, reminding me of something so terrible I’d almost erased from my mind; the UK’s eight-minute segment at the Olympics closing ceremony.

I was always worried about how London would handle this moment in the global spotlight. This was our opportunity to showcase a myriad of talents, to call the world to London in 2012 where they can expect a multi-cultural festival of fun, funk and sporting excellence. Sadly this was hot on the splayed heels of the elected Mayor, the impressively-dressed Boris demonstrating the abject failure of his Aide de Camp to instruct him on the art of keeping one’s hands out of one’s pockets whilst in the public eye. I expected a kindly matron to slip alongside him to slap his wrist before gently leading him back to his seat.

Mrs S, curled into a foetal position on the couch and peeping through her fingers whilst cringing uncontrollably at the horrors unfolding on our screen, muttered ‘Oh dear God . . . it’s David Beckham on a carnival float’. I must say I was more worried about Jimmy Page, the impossible volume of sweat cascading off his tethered silver locks threatening to electrocute the finest rock guitarist in history live on television. Then I realised that a) he would probably go into cardiac arrest if he carried on, b) there were more qualified paramedics within a hundred yards of him than you could shake a stick at and c) the guitar probably wasn't plugged in anyway.

It all rather resembled an impressively large pimple bursting on the edge of an erupting volcano.
Nice to see we’re already managing expectations for 2012.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Someone suggested to me that the Beckham bus float could *not* have been staged by London - on the basis that if it *had* been a London bus it would have been 15 minutes late and three of them would have turned up together.


:RFLMAO:

[Bierzo Baggie]

Sweder, glad to read that you're enjoying the mountain biking. Any chance of posting a photo of the bike in question?

Keep it up and you'll strengthen your legs for hill running. You might end up with some muscles in the wrong places for speedy road running...but then we won't be too worried about that

[Sweder]

Sure, no problem BB . . .

[Bierzo Baggie]

Not as good as mine though..

[Sweder]

Oh . . . alright then.
Mines not quite as clean as this one . . . rather plastered in mud, sheep sh*t and the like. Excellent!



As I say very much an 'entry level' animal. It does have a nice fork-locking feature which helps when I'm swimnging on the handlebars like a demented ape trying to weave my way up the steeper climbs.
Great fun.