Triathlon Training - Lake Swimming

As a salesman I enjoy the challenge of convincing a customer to change their opinion of something to our mutually positive advantage, this week I had what I thought was the hardest sale ever, for The Everyman Olympics, but it turned out oh so much easier than I first thought...

Try selling this concept to a friend who holds the weekend dear, as a 48 hour party-thon:

Set your alarm for 5:20am this Sunday, I'll pick you up at 6 and we'll go to a lake an hour away for a long swim.

My mate Glen had been up for training for The Cycling Challenge, and had joined me on what turned out to be the same distances as the Olympic Triathlon; 1500m swim in warm pool waters, 40 cycling along a glorious coastline and 10k running along the very same glorious coastal route, though these efforts had always been at sociable times of the day which didn't hamper his apetite for booze and tech house music.

So I was pretty shocked when he signed up to the idea in about 5 seconds flat. However, on arriving at Gosfield Lake Glen was less than enthusiastic;

Glen: 'Think I'll stay in the car and watch from here'. 7:15am Sunday 1st July

Mark Harman has been running Born2Tri for three years, and when we met him you could clearly see that he was a triathlete of good experience. We paid thr £5 fee to swim in the lake and then each replaced a band with our name from the band board; a simple yet effected method for the organisers to know whether they're missing anyone at the end of their slot.

A fellow swimmer writes his name on the band board before entering Gosfield Lake

Kitted out in wetsuits, swimming hats and goggles, we entered the lake; which was surprisingly warm and shallow, in fact at almost any point in the lake, a man of say 6 feet tall could easily stand on its muddy bed, with head and shoulders out of the water. Good job I fit that description as I was huffing and puffing from the outset, this was going to be a tough ask.

A short swim out to the first buoy and Coach Harman began to assess our swimming abilities and give tips and advice for lake swimming, and next week's event (more on how to come along shortly).

Effectively the route on the day would zig zag from one end of the lake, to the other, with a kick back point taking swimmers around a water-ski jump and back up to a grassy landing, where transitions to bikes would take place on a grassy bank.

We swam small sections of the route, probably totalling a quarter of the course. Each time we stopped, Coach Harman with add a helpful tip for orientation or technique for breathing. The finishing leg was longer and by now we were able to swim longer and with more confidence in our bearings.

I felt like my lungs had more of a workout than my legs, as at each stage I was gasping for air; the main thing for me to remember on the day is not to rush and to keep checking my movement. As Coach Harman says 'there is no time limit in the lake and the whole event will take around three and a half hours, you don't want to tire yourself out on the swim'.

Coach Harman, The Everyman Olympian, and a cup of hot chocolate beside Gosfield Lake

If you're interested in coming to the event, then here is a link to the location on the Gosfield Park Lake Resort Webiste:

http://www.gosfieldlake.co.uk/contactus.html

If you live close enough to Braintree in Essex, then Born2Tri will happily welcome you with open arms, they also offer training for cycling and running too, for all levels of experience. Here's a link to their site:

http://www.born2tri.com/wordpress/?p=3

Hope to see you on Sunday 8th July from 8am at Gosfield Lake, I really could do with the support!

The Everyman Olympian

Wresting Training - Broken

Back at Elite Fitness after a week away in the States, I had to prove that I'd taken more on board from my first visit here about fighting, than I'd taken on from the Americans about eating...though the slight spare tyre around my waist told it's own story...

I've managed to turn up with my £6 admittance fee this time and in plenty of time for the warm-up, which meant I'd be going head first into forward and backward rolls in front of folk who churned these out for fun, literally (Gymnastics was my worst sport at school).

The warm-up over and my pride still reasonably in tact; somehow I'd managed to get away with a few of those 'new' diagonal rolls that are all the rage in gyms these days, I was feeling good and ready to learn some fresh moves.

This time around when Coach Hales demonstrated the first move we were to practise through replication I was partnered with Danny and James; two very helpful lads, each the size of a barn door.

Coach Hales would allow us around ten minutes per move, for practise and to iron out any shabbiness in technique, this provided me just enough time to work out one move before being confused by the next and forgetting a lot of what I'd just done. The other members of the group seemed to soak up the move with one demonstration, though thankfully Coach would show us at least 3 times to ensure even I had a chance to get the basic gyst.

Coach Hales (green tee) shows us how it's done.

After being strangled, flattened and rolled into an uncomfortable ball in the name of learning - and loving every minute - we once again paired up for mini, 3 minute battles, played out to submission. Coach Hales said that I needn't get involved unless I wanted to. I got stuck straight in.

To begin with James and I practised some of the moves from the evening, which gave me the chance to refresh my memory and James the easiest opponent in the room. I really appreciated this gesture from the big man who I'd later find out had a real thirst for history and even takes part in historical battle re-enactments, though after two 3 minutes rounds I could tell he wanted the chance to face more resistance and so I switched to another opponent.

Ben was a slightly bigger build to myself, though far more solid and had been studying Wrestling far far longer. We matched up and that's when I got a little cocky; while I was by no means showing any sign of technical nouse, I did try to add some aggression and added force into my efforts - this simply indicated to my opponent that I was up for a similar approach back; it's fair to say he had more stock of each in his locker.

After a few submissions from yours truly we were nearing the end of this pairing when Ben pulled a move where my head was low into his chest as I was forced backwards and he rolled over the top of me. The pop, flash of pain in my chest and my subsequent 'aggghhh' as we hit the deck caused the other fighters to stop in their efforts and look our way. I explained the problem to Coach Hales and he diagnosed that I had a 'popped sternum', and instructed me to sit out the rest of the session - I wasn't going to argue.

Randomly, a chiropractor called Patrick, entered the room almost straight away; he'd turned up to advertise his services and had a patient instantly - Coach explained the issue and I was given some early treatment on the spot. Cheers Patrick!

Patrick the timely chiropractor

Ben apologised but I passed it off as just part and parcel of learning a sport like this, he felt pretty bad as he'd never injured anyone, though in my eyes he'd merely wanted to win - I knew he wasn't setting out to break me.

South Essex Wrestling Club, Coach Hales (green tee), The Everyman Olympian (broken and right of Coach Hales), Ben (second on from back right), Danny (back right), James (front right).

That night as I tried to sleep I was in a lot of pain; if I turned my head left it killed my back, if I turned my head two inches to the right, my chest flared up. I opted to sleep on it and see how things developed.

I've since been to a chiropractor nearer to home. The pain subsided but 2 days Sailing training and a full day moving awkwardly for The Beach Volleyball Challenge has taken it's toll on my recovery, here's what the 'doc' diagnosed:

Effectively I've 'pulled a rib' - which means I've damaged the links between one of the cartilage sections connecting one of my left ribs to both my sternum and my rib. It's not pleasant.

I'm currently sidelined from continuing with Wrestling for the time being, have been unable to start Hockey, and am having to rest rather than continue with Triathlon training.

68 days to go till the Olympics start...

Tri-harder

Somewhere in the 'chilled' haze of the sauna room after my first swimming lesson on Saturday, I managed to convince Coach Passingham to come along from the cycling leg of The Triathlon Challenge training session I had planned for the next morning, I think my next lesson might be slightly harder now...

At 7am on Sunday 7th April we met in the car park by Glen's pad and set off on a 24 mile cycle - effectively matching the 40km that is required for the full Olympic distance Triathlon. The weather was over cast and within the first 10 miles the rain had began.

Swimming Coach Passingham before the day's Tri Training

We headed East, down through Westcliffe and Southend to Shoeburyness where we headed off the coast and inland, joining the A127 and heading along this often busy road to Raleigh, where we rolled across to Hadleigh (the location for the London 2012 Mountain Bike event) and back through Leigh-on-Sea.

At around 14 miles I tried to manoeuvre my road bike back onto a cycle path when my back wheel spun from under me on the wet road; first my left knee, then left elbow smashed onto ground, then the weight of my right leg forced my saddle into my inner left thigh - I wasn't letting this ruin our morning mind, I hopped straight back up, quickly checked my bike and gave the thumbs up to Glen to pedal on.

More injuries for The Everyman Olympian

Somehow, despite the rain falling like we being followed by a waterfall, I'd managed to convince Glen to join me for the at least the first mile of the run so we looped back back his to collect his trainers before finishing the cycle 'leg' back at my flat.

A quick change of footwear and we were jogging down to the coastal path to begin the 6 mile run - Glen continued to listen to his iPod, which to be fair was ideal for me as I find talking whilst running ruins my breathing pattern.

The run was fairly uneventful accept for the chap we passed shortly before parting company; as we came into Westcliffe there was this chap who looked like Hitler would have if he'd have made his seventies - he was wearing a long camel coloured coast, a red armband and had a overgrown narrow moustache. As we passed we said good morning to two bobbies who were stood chatting to another guy by the roadside. I think we were all a little shocked by the guys appearance.

My last mile wound steadily up hill and while this was painful enough I also have the off sensation of rather sore nipples, here's what I discovered when I removed my fleece after the ordeal was finally over:

What Triathlon training will do to a man.

Guess for next time some nipple plasters are required...

The Basketball Challenge: Match Two, Southend Swifts vs Southend Players

Jarring my back while digging my car out of the snow last Saturday, during a Winter we'd almost convinced ourselves wasn't coming, then driving nearly a thousand miles prior to turning up at Match Two of The Basketball Challenge this evening, wasn't exactly the ideal prep but sometimes life is literally all swings and roundabouts.

The term 'Players' is cool if you herald from Phili and head up a fraternity called something like say Alpha Betas, but when twinned with the word Southend it just comes across as lazy to the British mind. While Southend Players were far from lazy, they were hardly Swift; even I could keep up with their play, albeit from the bench.

When these two local teams last met, Southend Swifts gave them the kind of drubbing that the Harlem Globetrotters dish out in droves, though this evening the Players were lead by a No.9 who Coach Chris described as 'the best player I've seen while at a match', high praise indeed so we had to be on our toes.

Alex, our talismanic No.8, started sprightly and the opposition just couldn't handle the speed of his breaks but gradually the older squad from nearer the sea managed to disrupt our play and create scoring chances of their own. At the end of the first quarter, the Players were edging it.

Coach Chris spelt it out for the lads 'Carry on playing this slowly and they'll continue to lead, play our way; quick and attacking, and we'll win the game', the game was there for the taking, we just had to go up a gear.

The second quarter was the most dramatic, while I watched on from the sidelines I became enthralled in the battle for power as steadily the Swifts picked up points. From five minutes in, the scoreboard swung alternately in favour of either side with almost every passing second.

While my fascination and love for this sport continued to develop, I was still getting painfully few minutes on the court and still any understanding of the rules and signs used by the two officials escaped me; at times it looked as though barely a thing had happened to stop play when the shorter of the refs (the one with the angry haircut) would walk towards the 'judges' table and seemingly play Rock Paper Scissors with himself before give a summary of a made up offence. I was baffled.

Coach Chris was content to use less time-outs than last week, I think this may have been to ensure that the older men were kept moving as much as possible, in order to wear them down.

Southend Players seemed a team based around two key members; their excellent No.9 (unfortunately two knee injuries had robbed me of the chance to see him in his prime) and a lad called Chris who clearly knew the sport well and while not the greatest of shots, thrived on disrupting his opponents play. Outside of this they had a No.13 who looked like he could have been cut'n'pasted from the 70's, a No.14 who flattered to deceive; he looked the part but had the shooting ability of a baddie in the A-Team, and no-one else of note.

The highlight of the third quarter was when the Players' Chris got sent off, seemingly for a double obscenity in reaction to a ref call he didn't agree with. Swifts were already starting to create some room between themselves and their neighbours on the scoreboard through a reinvigorated Alex and the skillful long shots of Brad, and now playing against a weakened side they started to skip away with the lead.

The frustration had clearly got the better of them, Players' No.13 got a little too close to Swifts Alex who had to come off for a bit to recover from the meeting, as he left the court one ref asked how he was and this was the reply, 'I think I've lost a bit of my penis', it turns out that our man from yesteryear had squeezed Alex's manhood in an attempt to put him off his game - his aim had worked as for a good few minutes I thought my team mate was going to pass out from the pain.

Coach Chris gave me the nod once he felt secure in the win and with less than a minute from the final buzzer I joined the action, 'Who shall I mark', I asked...'Number 13' came the reply. I feared for my penis.

This time I didn't get the ball before I knew what was going on. When I joined we were in attack, this quickly switched to being in defence so I spotted my man and got between him and the basket. I managed to trap him and the ball actually came to me in defence just seconds later...I bounced it, bounced it again and it hit my own hip...then for some reason the whistle blew - I think I may have travelled with the ball, but Coach if you're reading this then please can you add a comment on here to confirm whether I'm right). Anyhow, when the ball came back into play it was only a matter of a few ticks before the timer ran to zero and the buzzer signified our victory.

Head Coach Pearl gave me a Southend Swifts t-shirt, an incredibly generous gesture - I intend to earn the right to wear this tee before I even take it out of its fresh wrapper.

Our next match is at home on Wednesday 15th February against Erkenwald Ladies Basketball Team, why not come along?!

The Handball Challenge: Oxford Uni Tournament, Matches Four & Five.

Oxford University is famously the source of many great achievements and the producer of many of the greatest students of all time. On the Thursday 6th May 1954 medical student, Roger Bannister became the first man in history to run a sub-four minute mile; using two pacemakers he clocked 3mins 59.4 seconds on the Iffley Road track - bizarrely, despite having once been president of the Oxford club, he set this world record while running for the Amateur Athletic Association.

Saturday 7th January 2012 Brentwood Handball Club arrived at the very location of Bannister's amazing feat, it was to be another historical day, albeit at a far more modest level.

Coach Kuller Rabaca had liaised with both Cardiff and Thames Handball Club's to organise a mixed sex, mini tournament that would see athletes of all ability levels (from at least two continents) collide in a battle of whit, speed and agility.

The Handball Challenge: Match Four, Brentwood vs Cardiff

This was our first match with a mixed sex team this season, under the tournament guidelines we had to 'field' three girls at all times - as we only had three girls Coach had agreed that they'd all play as long as they could. Jo would be a goliath on our goal, while Julia and Steph both worked the wings and used their experience to instigate overlapping runs and attack the line.

Brentwood Keeper Jo making one of many saves against Cardiff. (The Everyman Olympian is No.8)

I was chuffed to start the match and worked in partnership with Steph, switching our positions to give Cardiff problems in their attacks and ours. With strong options throughout our team we had the upper hand against our Welsh opponents - some of whom were having their first competitive experience.

Cardiff's main threats came from their captain and a tall lad who had travelled to the fixture independently and simply looking for a game, it turned out he was Brazilian and plays in the English First Division - luckily for us he was having an off day, throughout the afternoon he must have hit the crossbar a dozen or so times.

At one point the ball had flown over the top during a Cardiff attack, I was completely unaware of it as it bounced on my head, then bounced on my head again as walked backwards, landed safely in our area for Jo to collect - unwittingly I'd nullified them with ease. The crowd applauded.

Mark was enjoying the freedom of being out of goal and on a number of occasions broke free to counter attack successfully - bagging several goals in both halves of this game. Rob also had his scoring mitts on - his aggression in attack helped make up for some of our players who couldn't make the tournament.

Brentwood's Rob pounces.

Coach had made it clear to the team that if we got a penalty, then I would take the first one. While on the bench midway through the first half I got the call, temporarily replacing an in-form Rob. I had no time for nerves as all eyes were on me - this was my chance. As instructed I planted my left foot firmly behind  the penalty line, eyes moving from left to right making my choice - the goalie was close enough to see my decisions as it was made...having meant to throw the ball away from where I was looking, I proceeded to launch it straight at the guy...thankfully he fluffed his lines and the net bulged, The Everyman Olympian had scored!!

The Everyman Olympian scores his first competitive goal

We broke for the first half 17-10 ahead.

Duncan was frustrated with himself in the break, feeling he'd squandered scoring opportunities, I told him to relax, that patience would pay off - he spent 2 minutes in the sin bin during that second half, clearly my advice worked then.

The fear of not closing out the game drove us on, the game ended 30-14, we'd won both halves and more importantly we'd won our first match of the season!

Rest is for wimps...or is that breakfast?..or is this nonsense? Either way we didn't get much of a rest (or a second breakfast for that mater) as we had our second game of the day to play...

The Handball Challenge: Match Five, Thames vs Brentwood

Terry was worried, 'They've got matching socks', he was right to be.

Thames had a coach who looked like he was cut and pasted straight out of a scene from Rocky IV right onto the sidelines of this court, with an 'I will break you' stare to boot.

Their team consisted of more talented girls than you'd find in an 80's US chick flick and what's more they were fresh. By contrast we were fresh meat - Coach Kuller Rabaca called a time-out a third of the way into that first half to give us a wake-up call, 'Your minds are elsewhere, maybe twenty minutes ago. You need to get in the moment'.

The Ref looks on as Thames' rapid No.19 storms through Brentwood's sleeping defence early the first half

Whether our lads were mesmerised by their No.5's cute bottom or like George Michael found sleeping at the wheel at a set of traffic lights, we'd simply run out of puff, it was hard to tell - but Coach was right.

Brentwood's Terry blocks Thames' excellent No.22

By half time we were 18-6 down, Coach had his work cut-out.



After a long spell on the sidelines I was asked to come on for Sean in a slightly more central role, I felt my defending was weakened but enjoyed better efficiency in our attacks, laying up Julia to score goals from our right wing, while Duncan continued to enjoy better poaching chances in the centre.

Duncan makes a break count against Thames

The main incident in this match was caused by one of their few male players getting under the skin of Ian on our side, the two were both sent off when Ian reacted to some of the abusive comments being made.

We managed 9 goals in a better second half but Thames showed their class finishing 36-15 the victors.

I'd scored my first ever competitive goal, this won't go down in Oxford University folk law but it means a heck of a lot to me.

Brentwood Handball Club: Oxford Tournament '12 Team
Standing: Coach Kuller Rabaca, Rob, Steph, Mark, Duncan, Ian, Sean
Crouching: The Everyman Olympian, Jo, Julia, Terry.

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!

The Handball Challenge: Match One, Cranfield Vs Brentwood

My travel to and from the University of Essex Sports Centre pretty well mirrored my performance in my match for The Handball Challenge; I got lost due to an unclear path and was disorientated at the end.

The Handball Challenge:

• 7 matches before the Olympics starts (I've joined Brentwood Handball Club to play in their season).

Much like other team sports, the worth of your labours in training amount to nothing until they're tested on the field of play, or in this case the colourfully lined indoor court.

Baptisms of fire vary in heat like a curry without the English translation on the menu; you're not sure what you've let yourself in for until it's all too late, in this instance I was the oik left gulping down Cobra like a man who'd not seen liquids in weeks.

The play was quicker than my brain but I now know that with a third of the match down (20 minutes), we were only trailing 3-5 and were well in with a fighting chance against a Cranfield University side that was well stocked with apparent fans of Rap and Metal music.



Cranfield break through to apply early pressure (The Everyman Olympian, Far Right)


Then disaster selected Mark and struck him with a bitch slap to the ankle, we were now substitute-less and yours truly would be seeing out the rest of the game. Coach Kuller Rabaca called a time-out to give us a breather and make us aware of the situation.

Whether it was the news that hit us hardest or our opponents more collective reaction to this game-changer I'm not in a position to say but when the ref blew for half time we'd slipped ten points adrift with no further reply, the score now 3-15.



Our great goalie David draws on this childhood days of watching Karate Kid


Hans-Jorg took us aside for a rest and a pep talk, we needed to focus, maintain shape and move the ball quicker to the attacking players in the second half.

Sean and George mustered a tiring defence as best they could (each also netting 1 and 2 goals respectively in the match), while Chris lead an aggressive and physical attack that yielded 4 goals and riled their defensive triangle.

Collectively we were sharper in the back 30 and reduced their scoring opportunities, though their agile yet short front men continued to pose a threat, George and Big Phil were able to disrupt them while they looked genuinely unsettled by Chris' counter attacking ability.



George limes high to save us after Cranfield launch another well-oiled attack


7-22 The final score of a match which we'd lost due to their blistering opening half while we still getting used to each other, a heavy loss then but there were some positives to build on.

You can find out more about Brentwood Handball Club and the sport here.

Slamming Kicks

I'm a great believer in having the right tools for the job, for Running I always wear NewBalance; personally I don't think there's a better brand out there, their tech is top of the range and they manufacture in both the UK and the US which no other Global Sports Brand does. But yesterday I had to find a pair of Handball trainers, and that's another matter entirely...

As ever when shopping for kit I'd done my research, very few specialised Handball brands sell into the UK market, it's just not popular as a sport over here (given that Handball shares traits with Football - other Brits who are useless with their feet really should give this a go!), so I was having a mare finding them and me being me I needed them for tomorrow (Saturday).

Coach Kuller Rabaca had advised me that Basketball trainers would be fine, and though I did manage to find a brand German called Kempa (named after Bernhard Kempa, a Handball Hero back in the 50's) but they only look to have one English stockist and I couldn't be sure that I'd get my kicks through the post in time.

So I switched the focus of my research to Basketball and of course only one brand kept coming up on the world's favourite search engine, Global Sports Goliaths: Nike.

I saw that my working day would take me right by their newest UK store, at Westfield Stratford City; conveniently located right by the main London 2012 Olympic site.

I located the right area within the store within a minute and had been intent on buying a pair of Lebron James 8PS which had just launched. Michelle in the store was quick to kit me out with a UK11 but after a few cheeky shuttle runs in a quiet corner, I could feel my toes jarring into the front so switched up to 12's.

The ankle padding compared with a Running shoe is vastly different and cushions movement at a higher level in the leg than needed for just forward motion, I could tell these kicks would be excellent for Basketball but maybe too bulky for Handball and another pair had caught my eye which Michelle informed me were better for speed but less of an all-round option...the Zoom BB 1.5.

Michelle with the Zoom's which I opted for and a card from The Everyman Olympian

Michelle also told me a website I could use to help find a Basketball team, that she'd live in the States for 5 years and played BBall out there, her son's a special player and making his way up the rankings AND even gave me some tips! Nice one Michelle ; )

For the uninitiated you can check out a Handball goal here:

Saturday 22nd October I'll be at The Brentwood Centre, joining my team Brentwood Handball Club for our first match of the season against Warrick - starts at 3:15pm, feel free to come and watch.

Walk Jog Run Podcast - Interview 17th October 2011

Yestereve before I went off for my first training session for The Handball Challenge I had a call from the states, Caitlin from WalkJogRun.net was on the line and interviewed me about all aspects of The Everyman Olympics.

You can check out my interview for this site here.

WalkJogRun.net is a great site that I came across through a friend when I was looking to see where I could run when I was away from home, it's great for mapping walks, jogs and runs; does what it says on the tin.

First Handball Training Session

My back aches, my feet are sore, my clothes dripping with sweat an my right hand feels like it's been through a strenuous workout of it's very own (hold back the sniggers you in the back), and I feel great!

I drove over to join the Brentwood Handball Club this evening for my first taste of training for The Handball Challenge and thanks to Coach Kuller Rabaca I may even being joining the team for the whole season.

Coach Kuller Rabaca put six of us through our paces while three others practised Goal Keeping drills at the other end of the court, then we joined to play a 5-a-side match that ensured I was thrown in at the deep end.

I loved the training element and the warm-up drills as they were varied and I felt I was learning pretty quickly - I now need to work out how to put this into practise during a game, because I was pretty shoddy in the mini match.

This Saturday (22nd October) I'll hopefully make it there in time to get my first competitive match in too, if you're around from 3pm in the Brentwood area then why not come along, here's the address:

Brentwood Centre

Doddinghurst Road

Brentwood

Essex

CM15 9NN

Telephone: 01277 215151

Coach Kuller Rabaca and The Everyman Olympian - as taken by Ralf, who had shaky hands after remaining from 12 years in the Handball Wilderness

Radio Ga Ga

Thanks to the ingenious approach of Coach Morris to The Shooting Challenge, tomorrow morning I shall get the chance to be on national radio for the first time in the adventures of The Everyman Olympian.

Tomorrow from 9:30am - 10am tune into BBC Radio Wales if you get a chance, I'll be on there along with Coach Morris, being interviewed by Jamie & Louise - here's how you can listen:

FM: 93-96 & 104 if you're in Wales or the West of England

Or try Medium Wave: 657 & 882 AM

Or online, here:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/wales/radiowales/sites/info/pages/frequencies.shtml

I'm really looking forward to it and hopefully you can join me.

Best regards,

The Everyman Olympian

The Archery Challenge: Training Day 1 / Boris Hood

Saturday at noon I was met by Richard Hennessy who rescued me from posh-looking, independent shopping destination, the Rutland Rural Centre, because I'd got lost on the way to the home of the Bowmen of Glen Archery Society.

The clubhouse sits on the right side of a private field which has distance markers running along the left fence, so that the bosses (the frames upon which the targets sit) can be measured out away from tram lines set into the ground near the start of the field that mark where archers stand to fire their arrows.

Coach Hennessy and his wife Chris, along with Kev (also a Coach, but I've yet to learn his last name), are all extremely welcoming and seem already to have worked out the schedule and how the 'final' will work - I felt right at home almost immediately, though worried slightly when Phil (a chap who was firing arrows as I arrived) mentioned that he'd been learning since May and as yet hasn't reached the distance of my competition (which will be 70 metres).

Over a cup of coffee I learn the various Health & Safety aspects and tried to settle the nerves of Bertie the Great Dane - a beautiful yet giant dog, owned by the already lovely Hennessy's.

There is a safety line, from which non-active competitors and spectators can stand, while active archers are at the slightly advanced, firing line. Ahead in the field, in line with the different distance markers, sit the bosses (easel-like stands) and affixed in front of these are the targets.

I learn that there are two different sized targets, the smallest obviously being the more difficult.

Normally beginners would start by practising firing arrows into the ground, to get used to using the bow, then they would progress to firing at a blank boss (one without a target) which is set at 15 yards.

However, I am being fast tracked and so I'll start by firing at a blank boss, 30 yards away...no pressure then!

Chris, Kev and Coach Hennessy kit me out in all manner of garb; including a bow made from various sections of smoothed wood, an arm guard (to stop the string from peeling my bow-arm of skin once I'd fired an arrow), a strap that would stop me dropping the bow, a little leather thing to stop the string taking the skin off of my firing fingers (I'm starting to get the idea that this was quite a dangerous sport) and later I would add a shoulder harness with breast 'plate' to stop the string from flaying my left pec after an arrow is fired.

Kev teaches me the basics of how to fire the bow and I take my first shot...the arrow whistles past the boss and off into the field beyond.

Tips, encouragement and adjustments to my posture are given and once fired my second arrow finds its target with a satisfactory thump - I soon learn the pleasure of this unique sound.

After failing to meet my target of getting all 6 arrows onto the boss in one go (I managed 5 a few times but that was my best on a blank boss), Coach Hennessy moves me onto a boss with a target and begins to fine tune my sight; this is a small round piece of plastic mounted onto the bow, featuring a lolly pop shape in the middle - the trick is to line the head of the lolly pop with the centre of the gold (the bulls eye equivalent) on the target, then release the arrow...as a fat lad I know how to maneuver a lolly pop!

5 Scoring Arrows...on Day 1!

My efforts start to pay off and I soon manage 5 scoring arrows - just call me Boris Hood!

Encouraged by my display I continue to focus on what my coach tells me and look to improve with every shot, meanwhile Phil and Chris have a mini shout-out against once another at 50 yards.

Coach Hennessy later remarked that he'd have been really happy if I'd scored one in the blue ring, to my sheer delight I managed to go a lot better with my next 6 arrows...

The Everyman Olympian stands proud next to 6 scoring arrows...including my first gold!

There's a maximum of 60 points available per round, this can only be achieved by getting all 6 arrows into the centre of the gold circle, with my second from last go I fire a whopping 37:

The Everyman Olympian: Chuffed to bits - 37/60...on day one!!!

Another piece of kit is added, this time it's a device to help balance the bow, providing better accuracy.

I weight up the increasingly heavy kit - the bow I'm using is set at 24lbs of tension.

After a few hours, Bertie and I are on stroking terms, my collective coaches are pleased and I'm as happy as a pig in poop.

The Everyman Olympian thanks Coach Richard Hennessy, formerly GB No.10 - it's a true honour to meet the great man, his lovely wife Chris and Coach Kev.

I leave the field 'of battle' knowing that soon I'll return, I may not be up to splitting apples atop peoples heads as yet, but in my mind I will be...some day.

Sweat FA

Chris Evans of the Essex FA has kindly taken up the mission of helping me to find a team to join for The Football Challenge.

Click on the pick below to take you to Row Z, the Essex FA's E-Fanzine:

If you can help me find a team, please email me at theeverymanolympian@googlemail.com

Cheers!

The Table Tennis Challenge: Ping Bounce Pong Bounce Ping Bounce Swoosh...Bounce

This next sporting challenge (undertaken in October 2010) is based on a game played by more people than any other in the world so I thought it would only be right to take my quest international...by playing matches in England and Scotland!

The Table Tennis Challenge:

• 6 matches
• Against 6 different opponents
• In 6 days

With a pending work trip around half of the UK's best countries ahead I looked to capitalise on my journey by seeking opponents in each location I'd visit; I tapped out tweets, mails, Facebook messages and texts, and even resorted to calling a few people too.

Manchester was done and dusted within an afternoon and on day one I had time aplenty to get to Leeds and check out my customers there too, plus as I was done by store closing time and knew someone in the area I hoped they'd be available and made the call...

You may recall Coach Josie was right at the heart of me changing my goals from 12 to every sport in the Olympics when training me for The Weightlifting Challenge, now she's studying in the city of Leeds and thankfully had a small window of opportunity to play...sadly though every sports club or leisure centre I called was either booked or having their table repaired...FAIL!

I trotted off to visit my good hearty northern pals, Chris and Trish; the very same folk from The Badminton Challenge and The Tennis Challenge.

This time I was determined to beat Chris, he'd won our two previous encounters on those past challenges and now I needed to show my skills with a mini-racquet...I mean bat.

We played like practising champions, in a hall with only one table...well, Chris played like a practising champion, I played like I'd not picked up a bat since holidaying in sunnier climes nearly ten years ago (because I hadn't).

After my thrashing, Chris delighted in giving me some tips and then revealed that he used to play this for hours, every day!

The next day I set off to work and towards Match 2: this time my opponent would be a man I'd trounced during The Tennis Challenge; Tones would be after revenge.

After work I picked up Tones from his location just outside of Newcastle and we headed to a table I'd pre-booked in sports centre that clearly had been state-of-the-art in the 70's, but was now as unloved as an old teddy in the bottom of a teenage lad's wardrobe.

This was to be a battle of gargantuan proportions; Tones took a game, I took a game, Tones took a game, I took...anyhow it reached 3-3, meaning the winner would take all in the final game...it was tenser than Conan The Barbarian, constipated.

We rallied and rallied and smashed and sliced and Tones even hit the deck on one occasion but he emerged victorious and looking like a mildly sweaty and make-up-less Noel Fielding.

Two matches down and 4 to play, I would have to win all of my remaining fixtures to be claimed King overall.

Edinburgh and Aberdeen were visited the following day, and then I had a large Glaswegian in mind with whom to do Table Tennis War!

Louis stands some 8 feet tall and has a reach that would leave me only speed as a potential weapon...but disaster struck when I arrived in Glasgow to find my ol' pal an injured man - I'm not going into his wound but let's just say every one of us would prefer not to have it (thankfully he's better now and the extra hole in his bum has healed nicely).

The match off, we settled into a lovely home cooked meal thanks to his wonderful missus and had a good catch-up, I was relieved in a way as maybe now I could wash off the smell of defeat.

By the start of Day 4 I had a total of no wins and 2 defeats to my name; one beating and one valiant and well-fault loss. The clock was ticking so I had to formulate a plan...

That very eve I would pull off a masterstroke in mid-week organisation; I fixed not 1, not 2 nor 3 but 4 matches - this would be a mini event of the nature no small town sports hall had seen independently organised within its venue before...or it would have been if we hadn't been playing on football night and so had to play on a table set up in one of the squash rooms.

Ali, Matt, Clare and Jess would be my four opponents, I would need a strong wrist and a sound mind to win against them all.

Ali ruined this immediately. He beat me like the novice I was, and this provided my remaining adversaries with the confidence to attack me with verve.

Matt tried some sly shots, but I won through - the taste of my one victory, bitter in the mouth with 3 helpings of defeat - I would need to beat the girls or 'die' trying.

Clare...oh dear, clearly Edinburgh (yes Clare is from Scotland's fair capital but she was living in Leicester at this point) taught many things but not how to play ping pong. I just had the missus to beat...

Victory! In a final match that would see me possibly giving away some points just so's I wouldn't have to sleep on the sofa, I beat Jess with the skills I'd accumulated in 4 short yet long-distanced days.

I'd recommend Table Tennis to everyone, but then again, given that so many of you play it already I guess I don't have to.

My First 10k & How I Got There

Hello, all sitting comfortably? Then let's begin...

You may recall that back in Spring last year, when I was simply looking to complete 12 sports for 1 month each in a bid to lose my belly (tschh), I took up The Running Challenge to cover 26.2 miles (the Marathon distance) in less than 21 days...well at the time I didn't run at all and trust me, I'm still not that great at it!

Sums The Running Challenge up beautifully

Now that I'm on a mission to complete EVERY Olympic sport before London 2012, I'm having to take things a little more seriously, so I've looked into the core abilities and skills that I need and sadly I've found no way of getting away from the fact that Running is key to loads of events.

The magic distance would seem to be 10k (or 6.2 miles in old money), as this is the length of the running leg in the Olympic Triathlon and if I could manage these regularly I'd also have the stamina for The Football, Hockey, Handball and Basketball Challenges.

Having been focused on The BMX, Shooting & Fencing Challenges, I was a little rusty when I again took up Running back at the end of May...on the 26th I managed a slow 3 miles to get me re-started.

http://www.walkjogrun.co.uk/routes/current_route.cfm?rid=40181407-073A-E81B-E0DF57FCCF2CD099

Training was erratic due to a heavy workload and other sports taking up my time, but by June 17th I was running much quicker and decided that day to call this my last 3, from now on I would step up my pursuit of a 10k.

Monday 20th of June I was at my brother's in Hampshire and he challenged me to a game of 'Cat & Mouse': we'd both start and finish at the same point and be heading off on the same route, only I would run to a point 2.1 miles away while Mike would go on to the 3.2 mark, and then he'd 'chase me' back.

When you run around country lanes you often get an echo of your own steps which can make you think that another runner is close up behind you...I pegged it back thinking I was almost being caught the whole way!

I made it back to the start with plenty of lead on my brother, I really recommend you try this method against a better opponent than yourself if want to increase your pace - Mike runs at just over the 7 minute per mile rate for marathons, so I really had to up my game to beat him.

8 days later I ran under 9 minutes per mile in a home town 4 miler, completing the route below in 35 minutes 19 seconds.

http://www.walkjogrun.co.uk/routes/current_route.cfm?rid=A3B42A48-EA64-1F0B-53EB36523E9644E5

I went back to my preferred route-planning site of choice - http://www.walkjogrun.co.uk/ - and planned a 4.5 mile, slightly hilly route, you can check out all of my routes on this site here.

On the 17th July I bagged myself these four and a half miles, though the hilly finish did take a lot out of me and so I took a little while before my next attempt at this route.

Seven days later it was sunny and hotter than I'd expected when I headed out to confirm the distance, but I had to pull up after just 2.5 miles with limbs aching badly enough to force me to quit. Speaking with a colleague who has far more experience at this running lark, I was surprised to hear him diagnose dehydration as the root cause of my problem.

I took a week's break as a dead leg healed and went out on a tentative 4 mile run with my missus uncle whilst we visited the Lake District the following weekend. Feeling confident I was OK, I retraced this route two days later - all went smoothly, though as I was warming down I felt a tug in my back and this didn't bode well...

Another week out due to this stiff back issue, I came back to a 4.5 mile run on August 8th and felt so bullied by the return that I planned out my first 5 mile route since The Running Challenge last year...and 3 days later I bagged it in 49mins!

This 5 gave me a sweet victory; my brother had challenged me to run the distance in less than 55 minutes and I'd nailed it with plenty of time left on the clock.

I confirmed I could do 5 miles and it wasn't a one-off, a few days later in a slightly windy jog along the coast which again took 49 minutes. Sadly though the pleasure of this was short lived, due to some bad luck and a bad decision on my part: the next evening I'd arranged to hook up with an old mate to do some strength work but he'd instead opted to take me out on a run - after 2 quick miles I pulled up with the same problem I've faced in the past; just above my ankles on both legs I was suffering from pins and needles and I had to pack ice on myself to calm the pain down.

I'm a stubborn chap at times and need to learn when to listen to my body, which I did for a change this time and held off of going out for a few extra days on top of my standard 2 day rest...but when I did lace up my trainers again it was to go for glory!

A family gathering at my brother's gave me the opportunity to have a running partner again, and seeing as my whippet-like sibling was currently in training for a marathon and a 10k race, I felt that now was the time to step to the plate; today I would attempt my first 10k.

http://www.walkjogrun.co.uk/routes/current_route.cfm?rid=EB883779-E8D7-ED1B-2069B9F52A5BF34B

This undulating route would include running on country roads, a stony and uneven canal path and a muddy field - so not the ideal route to worry about my time then.

My bro would run off occasionally, then double back and jog beside me for a while, which helped me to maintain momentum but virtually all the while I was suffering ankle pain; it seemed every time I switched gradients my ankles would scream their annoyance.

When I made it to the final downhill slope I was ready to beg for an ice bucket, but I still had the ever-familiar sprint to the finish line. My tiny counterpart clicked the stopwatch and breathlessly declared 'Well done, one hour five minutes and thirty six seconds.

The Athletics Challenge: The Everyman Olympics Decathlon Day

On the morning of the big day back in September 2010, I rolled into the empty car park of Saffron Lane Stadium in Leicester and waited nervously in my car for the other competitors to arrive for The Decathlon Challenge.

I'd been doing what training I could at Southend Leisure & Tennis Centre and though I was still carrying a lot of weight I had managed to get some training tips from local Decathlon legend, former Olympian and Commonwealth Games Gold medalist, Dean Macey.

Coach Macey: Commonwealth Decathlon Gold Medalist 2006

First to turn up was my girlfriend's father Chris and his lovely wife Elaine, Chris had recently completed an incredibly tough challenge of his own in an impressive time frame; LEJoG - the Land's End to John o'Groats bike ride.

Soon afterwards the other contenders and some much appreciated helping hands arrived so we entered the stadium and met up with Clive, the manager of the facility, who'd very generously given us the opportunity to use the stadium for surely the only amateur Decathlon he'd ever hosted.

Equestrian Challenge Training, Day 1 to Trojan

Yestereve I rolled up at Wildwoods Riding Centre in leafy Tadworth (Surrey), there were youngsters learning to canter on real live horses but for me on Day 1 of training there was a metallic beastie awaiting me called the Trojan.

The best riding school I've ever known.

Sue welcomed me in and outlined the facts of my contract, and before I signed she made sure I was aware that real horses have their own minds and the chances of having a fall were high, 'Everyone does' she said - I loved her manner, no nonsense and really warm at the same time.

AP McCoy's Got Nothing On Me

Earlier this evening I took myself along to a great local store to get fitted up for some new togs, though these aren't the ones I've promised myself for reaching 5 miles running...these are for The Equestrian Challenge.

The Raleigh Equestrian was my shop of choice, after checking out their website I knew this was the one for me and when I rolled up, the lovely ladies there were of great help in getting me kitted out.

The Eskimos have departed, fearful of the Horsey Folk!

The Fat Lad takes up a Brotherly Challenge

Afternoon folks!

Yesterday I mentioned in Blood, Sweat & Beers that my brother - who I might add is in the latter stages of his fourth decade and runs marathons for fun - challenged me to run 5 miles in 55 minutes or less.

Mike threw the gauntlet down just after I'd told him of my achieving the 5 mile distance on Thursday's run, for the first time since he shepherded me to 5.1 miles on the last leg of The Running Challenge last Spring.

As you'd have guessed, I took up the challenge like a fat lad accepts the offer of cake!