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 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!

Jetlagged Peddler

Here in Boston for work this week I'm suffering from what's medically known as desynchronosis a physiological condition caused alterations to my bodies circadian rhythms - in other words: I'm double jetlagged!

I've woken at 4am(ish) every morning since my arrival on Saturday and had little joy in getting back to sleep.

This morning was no different so after a few minutes rolling in bed and not being able to get off again, I headed to hotel gym...it was 4:45am.

Exercise for LIFE

Since beginning The Everyman Olympics I've noticed a few things about exercising - it turns out it's mostly good for you, and here's why:

L is for Love. It's also for Libido

Ever wonder why the the other chaps in the gym all have hungry eyes? Exercising regularly raises your A Game in the sack and also makes you as horny as a pube-sprouting teenager.

Lance Armstrong's Live Strong campaign site have researched the researchers and relayed the scientific facts behind this claim, here's a link:

http://www.livestrong.com/article/12125-boost-sex-drive-with-exercise/

The race is on for another boner

I is for Intelligence
Not only will doing exercise improve your basic maths (3 sets of 15 reps = 45 reps in total) but it'll also increase your brain power in other ways too...

The bods at the University of Illinois did some tinkering with the lives of 100 couch potatoes and found that these thick twats were capable of more than just using the remote control when pushed to simply go for the odd walk:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/health/healthnews/7967836/Gentle-stroll-can-help-boost-intelligence.html

Though I'm not sure I buy into the rumour that Professor Stephen Hawking's physical state is down to him unsuccessfully attempting a 200kg Clean & Jerk without spotters!

Arnie had nothing on me

F is for Fashion

Get to work on ditching the wobbly bits and you'll find you don't need to appear as if dressed like a sack of spuds.

Once the loose lumps turn to firm bumps you'll be wanting to buy some new trendy togs to go with the new slimline you.

All that money you save on not eating fatty nonsense will come in handy.

Not exactly Harvey Nichols

E is indeed for Ecstasy (though not the kind the Shamen harped on about in the 90's)

E is also for Endorphins...Energy....and Ego

All of these E's are boosted when you Exercise!

Hello Culture!

In the distant memory of the time before I started the adventure of The Everyman Olympics I recall a period where I would go walking in an effort to start the momentum I knew was needed in order for me to begin shedding the pounds, nothing unusual in this you might say but I do recall being mythed at the amount of times complete strangers said 'hello' to me just because they were out walking too - this is the story of how I came to recognise outdoor exercising's Hello Culture!

I first encountered the existence of this polite exercising etiquette whilst walking along the coastline of South East England - random folk out with their dogs or out walking for fitness would voice this greeting to me as I passed in the opposite direction.

To start with I was so flummoxed that before I'd managed to utter a mirrored response they'd already passed by and now I looked like a mumbling fool who uttered polite abuse at strangers backs.

Call me cynical (though please refrain from doing so while I'm out walking - that'd just freak me out) but as a shy and retiring Brit who used to work in retail I think people who say hello to folk they don't know are after something for their own gain.

4th Grade Jack explains it better than me - but then I'm a cynic and believe this clip to be the marketing tool of a corporate machine rather than a smoothly edited home video posted on YouTube by a well meaning seven year old:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcz9V-4QI2M

Before I could control myself I'd joined the 'hello movement' and was busy saying hello! to virtually everyone I could when I was out on one of these fast walks - I'd greet all and sundry, be they fellow fleet-footed fitness fanatics, people on their way to work or the paper shop, or even happy drunks on their way to bed after a cracking night out.

I was like a polite man possessed! And to this end I didn't really pick up on why some folk would respond and others would simply blank this twatful greeter.

It was only when I started The Running Challenge that I noticed the differences between the respondies and the non-responsive and only when I used my wheels for The Cycling Challenge that I realised the hierachy to the Hello Culture!

Here's how the Hello Culture! works:

1. People just out walking as a means of getting from A to B DO NOT say hello! to Walkers
2. Dog Walkers often DO say hello! to Walkers, though it's not a given
3. Walkers DO say hello! to other Walkers, unless they're rude or new or too shattered to say hello
4. Joggers DO NOT say hello! to Walkers unless they look like they're actually Joggers who are just taking a break
5. Joggers DO say helllo! to other Joggers (see No.3 for reason's that some don't)
6. Cyclists DO say hello! to other Cyclists but only respond if they are in the same category of Cyclists (rules of Cyclists to follow)
7. Cyclists DO NOT say hello! to Joggers or Walkers
8. Cyclists DO NOT say hello! to other bike users who are simply cycling as a means of getting from A to B
9. Cyclists seeking fitness but not part of a club DO say hello! to other Cyclists of the same nature
10. Cyclists seeking fitness but not part of a club DO sometimes say hello! to Club Cyclists but DO NOT often get a response
11. Club Cyclists DO say hello! to other Club Cyclists, it would be impolite not to wouldn't it?

I've not worked out the Hello Culture! rules yet for Horse Riders, Sailors *insert 'hello sailor' gag here*, or Mountain Bikers...but I'm working on it.

Next time you see me out exercising DO say hello! but only if we are both Walking, or Jogging, or Cycling and we're of the same standard - otherwise I'll blank you, you mumbling fool.

Numbers Game

The Mathematics of Exercise

You may put your physical prowess down to hard work, you may put your sporting success down to natural ability, but really...its a Numbers Game.

The Power of One

It just takes One motion to get you started...

One step One lift One push One pull One throw One press One leap One stretch One...Nike's marketing team weren't paid gaziliions for the slogan 'Just Do It' for nothing - the sooner you stop lingering on Zero and upgrade to One, the sooner you'll achieve your goals.

As I've mentioned before...personally, training in a gym towards no specific end target is dull and boring - but it's here that the mathematics of exercise are at their purist!

Divide and Conquer

Struggling to get through that hour of pain you've set yourself? Simply divide up your workout into manageable chunks and you'll nail it in no time - work out when you're 10% through, when you've hit half way and then reduce the percentages from 50 down to 5 and you'll fly through it (distract yourself with the maths).

Go Forth and Multiply

When you've done One, do another One, then another One, repeat and repeat until the old tubby you has turned into the new fit-as-a-fiddle you.

It's obvious really but just to make it sink in, here's a simple equation to follow:

(Reps x Sets) x Frequency Per Week = Success

You do the maths.

The Canoeing Challenge: Blazing Paddles

The Canoeing Challenge for The Everyman Olympics fell onto my lap easier than my missus manages to knock things over - believe me she is double clumsy (bless her); a group of pals from Leicester were off on their annual canoeing trip to the English/Welsh boarder and invited me along.

After a briefing Wyedean Canoe & Adventure Centre which frankly we all should have listened to more, the 12 of us paired up, loaded our gear into 6 Canadian open canoes and then launched off into the River Wye.

The River Wye

There are 2 different canoeing events at the Olympics - Slalom & Sprint, the Slalom is a timed run down a white water course with up to 25 gates to negotiate, the Sprint is...erm...a sprint and can be done over 200 metres, 500m or 1000m - simples.

The Canoeing Challenge:

Slalom

• Distance: 39 miles, including White Water Rapids
• Time: 3 Days

Sprint

• Distances: 500m & 1000m(ish)
• Time: As quickly as possible, obviously!

It soon became apparent that most of us had missed the part of the briefing where we got taught how to steer...

The boys were being boys and in that very first leg we each established that none of us wanted to be last, though this was counterbalanced by the girls being girls and not being arsed about the pecking order so long as they could chat with each other along the way.

Toilets breaks had to be approached with all the tactics and skill of a military campaign: every time the shout went out that someone needed a call of nature the lead canoe became the scouts for a place to stop, what followed was essentially the sight of 6 canoes crashing into any riverbank we could all get to, then a scramble of people each trying to help the most needy to secure their vessel from moving off down the river while others urinated in bushes or against trees - a real sight to behold.

One bathroom break was less successful than most: we'd unwisely opted to stop at a muddy bank - having wedged our 'boats' into the mud as best we could, there was a 4 foot high step onto the brown squelchy stuff, followed by a brief climb up yet more mud to get onto the bank.

On the way back down to the canoes Sophie slipped into the river and was dragged off by the current, the rest of us rallied to get her safely into a canoe but this came at a cost - 'I've lost my shoe'.

For food we would moor up at the regularly positioned pubs along the riverbank and occasionally we'd treat ourselves to a beer - just the odd one as I'm sure you can imagine (I didn't accumulate the belly I had before The Everyman Olympics without knowing my way around a pint glass).

Of an evening we would pitch tents at prebooked locations under the watchful eye of our leader,Will - an ex-marine; in our collective minds eye he could deal with any situation we encountered: if a pack of lost wolves attacked as we slept - Will would organise us in a ring of fire and we'd fend them off...if hippies in neighbouring tents persisted in playing Janis Joplin right through the night - Will could cut off their power supply...if we discovered the campsite toilets had no loo role all-too-late - Will would wipe our...

Janis Joplin - Will could take her.

On the morning of Day 3 we'd already travelled 30 miles and had bonded as a tightly knit, expert rowing unit, yet now we were to be briefed on a new and dangerous turn in our journey - the White Water Rapids...

The briefing lasted 20 minutes.

The White Water Rapids lasted 3...minutes.

I. Kid. You. Not.

Disappointed and barely endangered enough for any amount of adrenalin to kick in we ALL felt cheated.

Tones and Kate had shot off when the heavens opened - leaving 6 of us lads to wave good bye to Jess, Katie, Laura and One Shoe Sophie as we drew twigs to work out teams...it was race time!

Will & Ali were favourites - Will being the ex-marine and Ali being a big lad, the Dave & Henry combination looked challenging - Dave with his never-say-die attitude and Henry who looked chipper after spending each day in his canoe with a different lady...which left Ryan and I - me being the newcomer to canoeing and Ry with his iffy steering skills.

We guesstimated the 500m point and lined our vessels up, it was tense...'GO!' I yelled - disaster followed.

All 3 crews headed towards the exact same spot - Will & Ali crashed into Dave & Henry and so did we! Both men were thrown into the river - then we nearly crushed Henry, missing only by inches.

By the time they were safely back into their metal racer they were shattered, so the rest of us took advantage.

Pulling us back to gain unfair advantage Will & Ali paddled off to victory.

2nd place is nowhere in a 3 team race, so me and Ryan had our honour at stake as we lined up for the final event - the 1000 metres(ish).

The race started and this time we meant business...till I saw the chance to get revenge on Will & Ali, which backfired on both teams, leaving Henry & Dave a clear run to the finish line and glory...damn me!

We had to cruise the final 2 miles of our 39 mile Slalom listening to the other crews chirping about their wins...I'd completed another challenge for The Everyman Olympics but was wet and gutted.


With Special Thanks to:

Jess, Kate, Katie, Laura & Sophie - without you ladies it would probably have been a testosterone-fueled canoe race to the death (or the pub...whichever came first)

Tone 'Skimmer' Curran - shame you missed the race because you didn't want to get your hair wet ; )

Will & Ali - Cheers for organising the whole thing Will - much appreciated by all! Oh and congrats on the win chaps, albeit by dodgy means, grrrrr

Dave & Henry - Apologies for trying to kill you

Ryan - A valiant team mate (who must work on his steering).

What a top weekend!

The Tennis Challenge: Smashin'

As a kid I'd say that my sporting prowess was limited to two events, yes I dabbled in Rugby and Weightlifting in my teens but that was mainly because I was big for my age for a few years; our PE teacher most likely picked me for the pack due to a lack in numbers and my chunkiness rather than my skill with an oval ball and I most likely picked lifting weights because it'd make me even bigger and that'd serve to protect me from the odd bully at school, but my real sporting interests started early in the pool and later evolved during the summers when I worked hard to emulate my Wimbledon heroes...this is the tale of The Tennis Challenge.

The Tennis Challenge

• Play: 6 (Matches (Each best of 5 sets to add fitness value)
• Time: 8 Days

Feeling slightly under the weather I met Tones one glorious Sunday afternoon in July to start this challenge on some concrete courts in Middle England.

While it had been the best part of a year since I'd last played this game of wits, skill and physical fitness, I believe it had been a while longer for the chap on the other side of the net - who turned up to play with his girlfriends racquet.

The best thing about my route to victory was that despite the scoreline - which was more flattering to me than the match felt (6-1, 6-2, 6-2),  I can honestly say  I had to fight for it - Tones played with heart and guile; a number of my passing winners were narrowly missed by a man hurling himself through the air with no thought for his closeness to the metal mesh outer fencing or the hard deck below...



Think this is gonna hurt? Now picture Tones in the same position above concrete and hurtling towards a metal mesh fence!


My pal Big Pete is not exactly built for tennis (he resembles a cross between Michael Chiklis and Ben Grimm, the character he plays in The Fantastic Four movies) but like a true friend he agreed to meet me the next day back at home for Match 2.

Having discussed venues and come to few conclusions, in true British fashion we ended up going to the pub, but not just any pub - this was a pub with a tennis court.

It's no detriment to the big man that I beat him 6-0, 6-2, 6-2 and in fairness probably gave him a few of those points, because sadly his tennis racquet wasn't exactly built for a man not exactly built for tennis either (he'd borrowed it off of his niece), and despite the cheering support of his lovely wife Debs he was unable to learn and master an unfamiliar sport within the short time we had on court.

In either form this dude's hardly the new Roger Federer

After 45 hours away for work, the late afternoon of Day 5 arrived and it was a must play situation: but I was struggling with a sick feeling in my stomach during the day and before I left to get to Mopsies Courts in Basildon, I had to convince myself I'd be OK...

Old foes always endure great battles, think Senna & Prost, Vader & Obi-Wan, Kermit & Miss Piggy...OK so scrap the last one but you get the idea - Snelly & I were no different, we'd played many times in the past and both of us wanted to claim the trophy*.

*A few years back Snelly and I had come up with a concept by which we played Squash in the Winter, Badminton in the Spring and Tennis Summer to Autumn, whoever dominated each season owned the trophy for that sport - we never actually bought trophies for this, it was just the tern of accolade the overall winner of each event could claim.

For 3 and a half hours we clashed like titans, till eventually I held the trophy aloft; winning 4-6, 7-6 (8-6), 6-3, 7-6 (7-4) - victory was mine!!!

'I'm gonna look after this for a while'

Less than 24 hours later and feeling knackered still quite frankly, I arrived at some courts in Leicester to play a man they call: Ryan Devlyn.




Ryan Devlyn

 He may not have played of late but pre-match he warned me that if his serves started to come good then he'd punish me with them - luckily he took the first set to settle in, I won 6-1 by using my recent experience to focus on accuracy and gave the lad the run around.

Then his serves started to kick in - they were low, quick and accurate and indeed they did punish me.

4 aces later however, I regained my attacking in-game play and took the second set 6-2, which seemed to have a diverse effect on my sturdy opponent and while he reeled from my improving returns he was unable to up the other elements of his game - victory came swiftly with a 6-love win to seal it in straight sets.

Joy in my heart and bruised muscles in my legs, just 12 hours later I cruised through the gates of what can only be descibed as a manor house - I hit jackpot on Day 7 when my mate Chalky agreed to play me on the private court of his father-in-law-ish.

It was then that I took the biggest beating since Bruno vs Tyson '96 - as yet another ace flew past me I asked whether Chalky had played much before:

'I used to play for my school a while back, had coaching for a few years...oh, and I might have played a bit of County'. Cripes.

I can honestly say that I only really won half a game, the 6-2, 6-2, 6-0 victory for my classy opponent didn't do him justice - as we walked off 'centre court' his breathing was calm and controlled, I was a broken man.

Chalky beat me like the big softy I am

'Slight problem old chap, my uncles not got a racquet with him'. I looked at my phone in disbelief. Bo***cks! Suave's news could not have come at a worse time - I now needed a final day opponent and didn't have a clue who'd be up for playing on such short notice, I was in danger of failing The Tennis Challenge.

Post call there ensued a melee of madness - I called John, Kelly, Matt, Ma, Glen...Mark, Brian, Mike, Paul, Si...nothing! I hopped in the car and headed to the M25 in the hope of being best positioned to get to any game, anywhere in the UK and continued to make and take calls - those who couldn't play me I made be scouts for opposition and they would report back - I was desperate for an opponent.

By 1pm I was sat in my car at a service station and distraught, I'd made over 40 enquiries for fresh opponents and had scouts covering everywhere South of the North of England, the gamble of heading away from home had even meant I'd missed out on a match I could have played near home but my potential opponent had to be finished my 2pm - there was no way I could make it back in time.

A call came in through my cars speakers, ''Ey up bud have you found anyone to play yet?', it was Donnie Chris, he went on to explain that he was taking his missus,Trish, to her bosses house in Northampton that afternoon and could pack a racquet and shorts if need be - if need be?!!! Hell Yes I needed be!!

We arrived at the oddly named 'Race Course' to find a large field with no race course but it did have courts galore, and room for football and basketball too - the final match began at after 5pm on the last day of the challenge, on a grass court that had seen much much better days.

Actual picture of playing surface

At two sets down I'd had enough of this comedic farce - I'd guesstimate over half the shots we each had to receive bounced so ridiculously that chance and luck had more to do with the scoreline than pure tennis ability (though I would say that at 6-1, 6-1 down), so we moved onto a hard court nearby...

Some say that its the 'taking part that counts', and for the sheer fact that I've set these challenges up for the exercise value rather than to win every one I should agree - but I can't, fact is that losing in straight sets at a game I love is blinking annoying! (Chris took the last set 6-3, damn him!).


With Special Thanks to:

Tones - Cheers for turning up to start The Tennis Challenge the day after that day ; )

Big Pete - Nice one mate, let me know when you fancy a rematch!

Paul 'Snelly' Snell - The Tennis trophy is mine, next up - Badminton & Squash!!

The man they call Ryan Devlyn - Nice one fella, but next time keep them aces to yourself.

Chalky - A pleasure to lose to you sir, many thanks for the education!

Chris - Well done mate...Git.