Tuesday 27 December 2011

BBC Radio Wales TODAY! (Listen LIVE This Morning)

Morning folks, hope you're well and fighting fit...I'm up posting earling today as I'll be on BBC Radio Wales with Jamie & Louise between 11:30am - 12pm GMT this morning!

Here are all the details on how you can listen whether you're in Wales or not:

In Wales by Radio:

93-96 & 104 FM
882 & 657 AM (medium wave)

In Wales by TV:

SKY Channel 0117
Freesat Channel 714
Freeview Channel 719
Virgin Media Channel 931

Outside Wales Online:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/radio/bbc_radio_wales/listenlive

Here's a link to the Jamie & Louise page online where you can listen to the show for next 7 days should you miss it...

http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/radiowales/sites/jamieandlouise/

And if you miss the whole thing but want to find out more about me click this link:

http://everymanolympian.blogspot.com/2010/11/everyman-olympics-re-galvanised.html

If you want to see my Facebook Fan Page click here:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Everyman-Olympics/150463818306014

Contact or follow me on Twitter here:

http://twitter.com/#!/EveryOlympian

Or contact me by email click here

And if you want to find out more about Jamie & Louise's Show click here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/radiowales/sites/jamieandlouise/


BBC Radio Wales: Louise and Jamie
Hope you get a chance to listen to the interview, let me know what you think!

Cheers and all the very best,

The Everyman Olympian

Sunday 25 December 2011

The Handball Challenge: Match Three, Warwick vs Brentwood

With Phillipe Kouessan-Ettori and Danny Sedano returning to the fold for their first league match of the season, and our greatest team attendance yet, we headed back to Cranfield University with our strongest squad so far to face Warwick Uni.

Making up the 11 and coming out of a heavy cold I'd be happy to warm the bench while my stronger team mates lead the way...and set off to a fine pace they did; Rob bagged the opening goal of the match for Brentwood were leading 3-2 with ten minutes played.

The refs were a little harsh on us, I'm not saying they were showing favouritism but lets just say that Warwick were getting a generous share of the decisions.

Warwick lead with their lump of a No.8, seemingly playing a looser attack, with No.5 coming in from the right wing to launch shots on goal and a canny No.7 rushing in from the left to force goal scoring opportunities through our central defence.

Warwick's No.7 attacks.
We'd lost some focus after a good start and trailed 13-6 at half time.

Coach Kuller Rabaca gave us a stern tactical talk at half time, the fruits of which flourished early with Brentwood putting the ball into the back of the net 4 times to Warwicks 5 in the opening ten mins of the second half, we were competing once more.

Coach Kuller Rabaca puts the steel back in our wheel
Again we stuttered midway through the half and it seemed we were struggling at times to make our numbers count, despite the opposition suffering a few key injuries during the game but Mark Cory in the Brentwood goal was on song and kept us well in the match with some stonking saves to frustrate their tiring attack.

Brentwood's top scorer, Chris Baker, pounces again - he bagged 8 goals in this game.
We managed a heroic end to the match, outgunning Warwick 15 to 14 goals in the back half of the fixture to reduce the final deficit but sadly the first half lull cost us - the final score Warwick 27 - Brentwood 21.

Thursday 22 December 2011

The 100km Challenge

At some point one Sunday, a few weeks back, I had a rather silly idea pop into my head, not for the first time would I suggest a challenge to myself which would see me testing my body to the max for seemingly no point whatsoever...

I was preparing for a few days away for work and I knew I'd be spending the majority of my time with my face illuminated by laptop light, my only realistic escape being the rather machine-cluttlered hotel gym.

From seemingly nowhere the thought of 'travelling' 100km in four days entered my head and me being me I decided to accept my own silly challenge just to give me an excuse to venture outside my own room - I'd be unable to partake directly in any of the sports I had left to tackle at this point and figured the added task would do me good.

Day 1

I started like a lightning bolt out of the blocks on the first day:

EveryOlympian Butt's sore from naff saddle on the bike in this hotel gym but bagged 40km on Day 1 of my 4 day 100km Challenge, 20km Run & 40km Cycle to go


This tweet tells you all you need; I was fired up and being cocky on the adrenalin...my apologies, it gets me that way sometimes.

Day 2

Unsurprisingly, since I had barely ridden a real bike this past few months, let alone an exercise machine version with an uncomfortably wide saddle, I was unable to be as agressive on the morning of the second day:

EveryOlympian Legs let me down on the treadmill at 5km this morning, but made up for it with 10km cycle so pushed over the half way line #100kmChallenge


This plagued me mentally all day - as I'd stated earlier my intention was to cycle 80km and run the other 20, but rather than whallow in my morning's 'defeat' I headed back to the house of pain for a second stint that evening...
EveryOlympian Headed back to the gym after work and battled through a further 30km cycle, now 85km into the #100kmChallenge Just 15km run & 2 days to go


Now I was showing them!
 
Day 3
 
My legs were in tatters; aching whether I sat, walked or stood - stairs laughed at me as I advanced on them like a drunken cowboy who'd lost his horse.
 
Thankfully this was to be a crazy busy work day which called for me to start before 6am and keep going till gone ten pm - I'd worked right through the opening hours of the gym. Shame.
 
Day 4
 
Again I was short on time due to work that morning but I did manage to go through with a short run to clock up another 5km, I was just 10km and one gym session away from achieving my goal.
 
The telly nearly got me...
 
EveryOlympian 10 more mins of Crocadile Dundee 2 and I've gotta go battle the final 10km of this 100km challenge #The100kmChallenge


But I prevailed, only to be cocky on my bodies own chemical kick once again:
 
EveryOlympian 100km Challenge achieved...report by Sat eve to you tweeps


OK so this is three weeks late but hey I did still nail the 100km Challenge!
 
Why not set your own version up? Just calculate a tough training schedule that gets you to 100km - now make it a tad harder - and use any form of movement you feel confortable with. Good luck and let me know how your get on: theeverymanolympian@googlemail.com

The Handball Challenge: Match Two, Brentwood Vs Essex University

A local derby by all accounts, but with only four teams in the Development League South, which are slightly spread out, we journeyed to Cranfield's patch for the match - each match day all teams gathered at the one venue so as to play back-to-back matches and allow the coaches to deal with any league business.

Cranfield University like to keep their Sports Hall a well kept secret and so you only really know that the modern white block of a building opposite the campus petrol station is in fact the very hall for sports that you're seeking when you leave your car and make the effort to walk through the main doors - there are no noticeable signs on the way to it from either direction, and the hall itself is entire unmarked. Genius.

Controvesy in the carpark: I spoke with Rolf on my arrival, a stocky chap who'd attended my first training session with Brentwood but whom I hadn't seen since, he informed me that he was here for the game but had decided to play for 'A slightly more advanced team', which he added with a wry smile. I hoped he'd be proved wrong but in fairness this was only my second match and no less than three other team mates were on their debut run out today; Duncan, Terry and Ian were each eager to impress.

Essex University's Handball Team are a cosmopolitan bunch who are well organised and skillful in an attack that's quick to break (something which they did on no fewer than two occasions courtesy of cutting out my own poorly selected passes).

Rob scored the first goal for Brentwood - we were ahead for the first time this season! Sadly it was short lived...

The game had spluttered early into life in our favour but the away team soon put pressure on a nearly recovered Mark (he'd damaged his ankle in our first match) in our goal; including having to defend a penalty which I'd unwittingly given away - the ref blew for me elbowing their right wing player, I'd just been clumsy with my left arm in truth (no malice involved).

We knew we were in a game. (That's me far left - stood too far out)
Just ten minutes in I was substituted for Terry to make his handball debut, with both Duncan and Ian each already showing no signs of nerves and making impressive attacking moves, our sole sub was anxious to get involved; he'd prove more aggressive than myself in our defensive line.

'Is that a slow moving train or what?', clearly we needed to work on our speed in switching from attack to defense from this excellent turn of phrase from our Coach.

When I was reintroduced in the first half I settled into my wing duties with greater ease, hugging the line and hanging back slightly as instructed to give our attack some width and passing options. I also cleaned up my defensive play and following some other advice from Coach Kuller Rabaca I managed more effective close-outs on my opposing player by placing my arms behind my back and simply side-stepping into their way.

By half time the scoreline read 6-20, we were trailing but already Ian and Duncan were showing confidence in their goal line moves and combining well with the more experienced players of Rob and George (our most eccentrically-haired team mate), who worked well in those opening second-half moments to bring about 5 Brentwood goals in the first ten minutes.

Essex struggle to contain George in the early moments of the second half.
The second half had started with the same formation as the first had ended, with myself and Sean now occasionally switching wings - a tactic our Coach employed to give their defence something to think about.

On a few occasions I was left short of available passing options due to our players being man-marked so well and getting themselves involved in tussles of their own, my lack of experience led to poorly weighted passes back to Rob in the centre of midfield, which were cut-out by his marker and gave Mark little chance in our goal as they quickly counter attacked. It was no surprise that I was subbed out to Terry once again who was having more success.

Rob, was recently back from honeymooning on the other side of the world, was now commanding our attacks with confidence, though our defencive line became near bereft of comunication as we tired.

Essex Uni were not quick to defend after their increasingly successful recces into our half, though their vocal front man was quick to ensure each of his players were covering their opposing man and this system was proving very effective for them - their last 12 goals came with just 1 in reply, we were soundly dealt with.

Rob celebrates his return by making Rolf look average in goal.
The final score was 12 - 42, the Essex Blades remained unbeaten this season. It was dark when I set off in the car after the match that day, the mood in my car wasn't much brighter.

Saturday 17 December 2011

The Swimming Challenge: Big Fish

Swimming is the oldest sport in the world...OK, so maybe when it first came around it was used as a mode of transport and most likely didn't involve the four techniques we know of today, but in theory we swam before we could walk (give or take a few hundred thousand years for developing from the sea, via apes to our current shape of the moment).

Let me take you back to the Eighties:

Proper cold Winter nights from mid October onwards, the smell of chlorine coming from a plastic carrier bag on a lino-covered floor in the 'utility' room, the odour of vinegar and the sea lingering over the dinner table and happy happy faces under semi-wet hair...ah the joy of a fish'n'chip supper with the family after my mother had taken my older brother and I out for swimming lessons.

Dinner of champions.
I'm sure it was the same in many households across Britain in the 80's, kids as a populace the nation over progressed in their learning outside of the odd swimming lesson at school during weekday evenings at their local pool.

I had the worst trunks in the world but boy I loved 'em and my word how I enjoyed watching my mum stitching a fresh ribbon or badge onto them after another milestone triumph at Pitsea Swimming Pool.

Three decades later I stroll into the pool room at my local baths, I may only be 7 miles from where I learnt this most affordable of sports, but oh my am I light years away from the standards I managed back in the day.

Conscious of my belly folding like a decorative napkin in a posh restaurant, I quickly drop into the pool when I think most eyes are busy looking elsewhere. Now, how do you do this again?

Some twenty or so years since I last swam regularly, here is the challenge I was faced with:

The Swimming Challenge
  • Distance: 10,000 metres
  • Time: 12 days
Lungs are undervalued my friends, undervalued I tells ya! Mine were almost bursting after that first two lengths, I had to lean with my back to the shallow end wall of the pool and get myself back to below panic levels of breathing - how the heck did the old folk next to me manage to keep going?!

If you can swim to any level them I implore you to go to your local pool and give this a go; it's surely the most recession-proof of sports: trunks, admission, a towel from home and a coin for the locker that you get back = less than twenty quid to get started, and thereafter just your admission fee is needed.

What I really love about this sport is that it's almost totally indiscriminate; you can drop into the pool between a beef of a bodybuilder and a plump dinner lady and you won't know which is the best swimmer until they get started.
With children's sessions and general swimming scheduled in my local pools during the weekends I would need to hit an average of 40 lengths of a 25 metre pool, every week day for a fortnight in order to achieve my target, I just didn't know if I'd be able to make the minimum target let alone the fact that now I would have to exceed it to get the job done.

But swimming is a sport where you can quickly improve: when I got started on my challenge I had to stop for a breather after every two lengths, unable to reach my goal of forty lengths per session (I dragged my sorry arse out of the pool at 28 on that first session), but persistence would pay off.

Unable to manage the freestyle stroke (front crawl to some), I battled the waters with a patchwork breast stroke technique, made up from past memories and watching other pool users. This itself would put additional pressure on my hip and shoulder joints which would simply have to stay strong and see me through.

I'd frequent Belfairs Swimming Pool in that first week, sometimes before and sometimes after work and by the end of the week I was pretty shattered...and my right shoulder popped if I rotated it. I'd managed 188 lengths, and still had a 12 length deficit from the first session to make up.

A weekend break gave me the chance to rest up and try to get tips from friends and acquaintances on Twitter.

Back in the pool on Monday I managed my now standard forty lengths, by this time I was capable of six lengths without stopping, then another six, and then it would vary until I crawled 'over the line'.

That second week I clawed back the deficit with an almighty 50 lengths in my homecoming visit to Pitsea Pool, the place where I took my very first lessons under the guidance of their excellent staff.

By the end of the week I felt like I was half made of chlorine, the webbed feet hadn't quite appeared yet but I reckon my eyes were becoming immune to the sting of the chemically cleaned waters.

This last forty lengths would be my toughest challenge; with an evening of travelling ahead and a relatively short window in which to make my bid for glory I entered the water at Aylestone Leisure Centre, it was a Friday and I'd be pitting my whits against Joe Public during a general 'swim' period - most visitors in these times do anything but proper swimming.

I dodged mothers on social gatherings, teenage girls intent on catching up on gossip while pretending to do lengths, and younger kids dive-bombing when the lifeguards weren't watching. Each length came with added distance through sideways manoeuvres made so I didn't get poked in the eye by a brightly-coloured nail varnished toe or kicked in the head by kids trying to impress their pals.

My last few lengths were like a scene from Saving Private Ryan, suddenly the group of kids hanging out by the deep end split in two and seemed to go on a never ending dive-bombing frenzy; each time I headed into the thick soup I'd get clattered by a cluster of tiny feet and sharp elbows.

Exhausted yet triumphant I touched the tiles for the final time only to realise I'd lost my swim shorts. Just kidding - this only happened in the dream I had that night!