Boxing Training: Fighting Fat

Yesterday afternoon I finally found an amateur gym close to home and within just a few hours after chatting with Mick Buck, the Club Secretary, I arrived at Southend Amateur Boxing Club to find my hunch was true - this would be an excellent place to train and complete The Boxing Challenge.

Coach Buck, Coach Canon, Steve Harris and President Eddie welcomed me in warmly, though all seemed suitable bemused by my plans to train with them over the coming weeks before a full sparring session with my big-haired pal Gorgeous George.

Gorgeous George (formerly just George) and I had met whilst team mates for Brentwood Handball Club. While I knew him to be a passionate sportsman and lover of both Handball and Cricket, I also knew him to be short tempered, tall heighted and fuzzy haired. He'd have advantages of height and reach on me while I'd guess we were similar weight when I last saw him.

Back in the gym...once I'd become a fully paid up member I was introduced to Junior Coach Steve Condon by the wonderfully voiced (think Lenny MacLean) President Eddie. Coach Condon instantly introduced me to a form of exercise I'd never tried in my life: skipping.

While the gym began to bustle with boxers of various sizes, Coach Condon began the group training session with a thorough skipping session which was broken only by sets of ten press-ups per 'round'. For the most part I tried to get to grips with the delicate intricacies of coordinating looping rope with jumping man; I've got to say that being able to skip as well as the lads is now one of my top priorities...I was rubbish at it.

Next I learnt the classic boxers stance, followed quickly by how to jab and hook, then I tried to mimic Coach Condon's excellent footwork as he demonstrated how to move correctly; the aim being to maintain balance and a strong stance whilst manoeuvring around an opponent who's eager to put you on your backside.

Clearly I was doing OK for a first timer, as my hands were then strapped and Coach Condon boiled up the kettle to fit my gum shield - these good folk waste no time in finding out if you have the metal, after donning gloves, groin and head protectors I was in the ring and learning how to spar, or rather 'being moved around' by Club Captain and classy heavyweight Gary Daley.

My first piece of Boxing kit: a gum shield from Geezers Palace

I took my first few jabs to the face and head in this session, albeit very light ones from a boxer who'll be prominent on the UK Boxing scene next year - President Eddie told me this, and you don't mess with him.

One of The Everyman Olympian's fists of fury

Coach Daley was excellent at showing me the ropes, and even took me through the 'warm down' exercise routine afterwards even though the gym was now nearly empty.

My first training session for The Boxing Challenge was ace. If you live in South East Essex and want to join a top boxing gym I can't recommend Southend Amateur Boxing Club enough.

Will The Real Olympics Please Stand Up

Yesterday was a day like none other yet encountered in my two year journey on The Everyman Olympics, not once but twice the real Olympics clashed with my 'lesser' project...

Just after a hearty and free lunch (cheers Ma), I popped along to Basildon Sporting Village, a veritable mecca of sport; they've an Olympic sized pool, state of the art gym and Gymnastics facilities that could rival any Russian oligarch with a penchant for watching Lycra-clad young lovelies in action.

While I waited for my chance to speak with the Gymnastics receptionist (that's just how professional this place is), I had to take a step back to allow...the Japanese Olympic Men's Gymnastics Team through! Each one of these double-agile chaps was sporting their national training kit and looking as focused as Kevin Costner when he shot that arrow in a movie one time.

I guess if the Japanese Gymnastics Team's diet consists of pure gold, they deserve priority bless em.

Sadly when I spoke with the very helpful receptionist she was unable to promise a positive response from the gymnastics coach as they were so busy with Olympic teams using the venue at present. The Basildon I grew up has changed dramatically it would seem.

The second collision between my Olympics and the other one happened just a few hours later...when I was heading into Garons Park, Southend, to do some Swimming training for The Modern Pentathlon Challenge. I had a photographer I've met, called Beach, with me - he was looking to get some shots of me training in the pool, but we were denied! The reason: The GB Diving Team were training in the Diving pool right next door.

Team GB Divers: You could have trained outside lads!

I'm not one to mind sharing the limelight but sheeesh!

Thankfully Basketball training went according to plan yestereve. Phew.

The Everyman Olympics continues...

The Triathlon Challenge: Born to Tri?

Just 22 days after restarting training for The Triathlon Challenge, having recovered 90% from my Wrestling injury (pulled ribs) I stood next to my mate Clive...both vacuum-packed in rubber, as we waited to start the Gosfield Lake Triathlon.

The (very bearded) Everyman Olympian looking apprehensive as Clive talks him through the swim route.

My thanks to Coach Harman and Born2Tri for their generous help in making my dream of completing an Olympic distance triathlon a reality - I can't recommend them enough, they're top folk!

As by body warmed the water in my wetsuit I positioned myself towards the back of the second draft of swimmers, wished Clive good luck and we were started off on our epic journey: a 1500m swim, 40km cycle and 10km run, back-to-back-to-back.

You can just make out my swimming cap, bottom centre

I'll not lie, the swim was a struggle to begin with; I couldn't establish a rhythm and I kept veering off in all sorts of directions. But then I regained my cool, remembered Coach Harman's wise words from the week before and finally managed to calm the nerves of the fellow beardy man who was paddling his canoe next to me to ensure I wasn't in serious trouble.

Exiting the water, I felt disorientated and drained; nearly falling over on the floating walkway out of the lake. Transition 1 didn't bring much confidence either, especially when I managed to make two small tears in the right calf area of the head organisers wetsuit (my apologies once again Coach Harman!).

Houdini could have escaped from the wetsuit better

Being lapped by elite athletes wearing flashy velodrome-style helmets on bikes I cannot afford is a bit like being beaten while playing your A game in a Wimbledon final by Roger Federer, there's no shame in it; this actually happened to Britain's own Andy Murray on the afternoon after The Triathlon Challenge.

The Everyman Olympian wins the race between these two orange signs

While I felt bad for the chap I passed who was walking his bike home and wouldn't finish the race, I had my sights set beating at least one active participant.

Towards the end of my first lap I passed No.91 but coming into my second 20km lap I was passed by No.119, whom I managed to keep within my eye-line throughout the remainder of the cycle; I found having this visual marker a real motivator.

We were each handed a time chip on a strap at the start of the race, which we had to wear to gain our results, but I gather No.91's chip hadn't been working as he's now on the born2tri site results page as DNS (did not start); I really feel for the guy. No.119 would beat me by 16 minutes but he probably helped get a better time in my cycling leg.

Transition 2 proved another disaster; with the bike a clear marker in the racks when I'd left the pool on transition 1 I had no qualms in finding my gear, but looking for a black towel amongst loads of black wetsuits was a nightmare - I must have lost 2 whole minutes in the search (while changing tops for a running tee must have cost me more)...lesson learned, never use a black towel in a triathlon!

Oddly enough I knew I had enough reserves to make the 10k run as I left on the final leg, so I tracked onto a man wearing a green sleeveless top - this man would become known as the Green Man as I used him as my pacemaker on the first lap of the run.

The Everyman Olympian sets off on the third section of the Gosfield Lake Triathlon 2012

The Green Man and I were quickly overtaken by a guy on his final lap, like myself he'd changed his top from the cycle and now I could see his race number (worn on the back for the cycle and front for the run as a minimum standard - we even had UK Triathlon Officials present so we had to abide by the rules).

We ran through farmer's fields, along broken private roads, muddy triathlete-created paths through corn fields and squelchy routes among trees before a short public road section to begin our second and final lap.

All the while I'd tracked the Green Man but just after we'd passed two female competitors he veered sidewards and stopped, seemingly to re-tie a trainer lace. I grabbed my opportunity and picked up the pace, the race to the finish line was on!

Back onto tarmac increased my pace again, maintaining a lead but not sure by how much. The last race official was busy chatting to cyclist pals, 'which way mate?' I interrupted, and he directed me towards a final field, thickly covered in waist-high corn. 'That's right mate' he hollered after me, but he clearly didn't see I'd entered at the wrong point - I now had sights on a chap just ahead of me but I knew the Green Man must not be far behind.

The only sign for runners nearby was set a ways into the field and hadn't helped me enter correctly, realising I'd made a wrong move a grey haired lady stood in the final low-grassed field shouted that I should cut through. The guy ahead built an unassailable advantage as I waded through the poor farmers crop.

Unbeknown to me, the Green Man has passed my brother who was taking photos by the last official and puffed 'I'm going to catch him now!'...but he too entered the corn field where I had and also lost time making a path for himself.

I cleared the crops and burst onto the final few hundred yards of grass, my legs burning and just a final route around a bright post to muster, crossing the finish line to hear my name announced by the race compare, followed by 'The Everyman Olympian...well done you've crossed Triathlon of the list...good luck with Synchronised Swimming.'

As I stood regaining my breath after a victory kiss with my missus, my father asked, 'Do you want some water, son?', 'Yes' I blew, 'They're just over there' he said - thanks dad!

Clive and The Everyman Olympian...we nailed it!

Huge thanks to the Born2Tri team and Coach Harman for the opportunity to attempt The Triathlon Challenge. I think I've found a sport I'll be coming back to!

PS Guess what pub we ended up going to for a Sunday roast after the race?...

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

The Sailing Challenge: Training on Pricey Waters

Less than 36 hours after popping cartilage in my chest whilst training for The Wrestling Challenge, I awoke before my alarm due to excitement for the days that lay ahead; this morning I'd be off to Chichester for a 2 day voyage of discovery, in training for The Sailing Challenge.

OK so the 3 hour drive South West to arrive in Chichester may have somewhat cooled off my excitement, especially seeing as it was cold, damp and I knew that more rest for my chest injury was far from what was on the menu. But the sight of Marbella, Coach Taylor's boat, tied to the jetty was enough to reinvigorate my desire to learn more about sailing.

Marbella

Coach Taylor had been busy in the day's leading up to our trip preparing his 26ft sailing yacht and I was surprised to find that mending the boats engine had been a part of this prep; I'd never thought a vessel of this type would have an engine - how little of sailing I knew.

We set off after around an hour, when the waters were judged to be high enough for us to safely coast out of the harbour. The engine purred noisily as we set off on calm waters.

Almost immediately, it started to rain

While the waters and the wind remained frustratingly calm on our outward journey, the rain started to fall almost as soon as Coach Taylor set about unfurling the main sail, and didn't stop till we'd reached our destination for the day.

The journey to Cowes in the Isle of Wight took us around 4 hours, the wind remained too low for practising manoeuvres though I enjoyed some time at the helm, watching the tell-tales (small ribbons attached to the front sail which indicate how you're tracking in the wind) and operating the tiller to manage our direction.

On the route we passed between two giant man-made 'forts', designed to house guns and act as defence posts against attacks in the World Wars; one of which was now derelict, the other oddly now an expensive hotel - apparently you can hire the whole place for just £8000 per night.

As we neared our destination for the evening, Coach Taylor booked us a mooring on the radio and I steered the boat, now back on its engine, towards our allocated space.

As we removed those soaked outer layers and prepared for a well-earned pint, the sun finally managed to elbow its way through the clouds, typical.

Bringing more than just a touch of Marbella to the Isle of Wight

I've been to the Isle of Wight a few times before but never to Cowes, which seems to do a pretty good job encapsulating all that's good about the place; enough drinking holes to drown most of the fish in the English Channel and more than enough shops to fill even the largest of attics with unwanted souvenirs.

The rich association with the surrounding waters is celebrated in most drinking establishments, of which Mark took me to a good handful (breaking the crawl briefly for a hearty dinner), though none more vividly than final destination which featured not only photos of Cowes many visiting boats and ships but part of one of the most famous vessels ever to race on open waters - The Kings Yacht, Britannia.

The image above shows the plaque on the Gaff Spar from this historic royal racing yacht, the length of which hung from the ceiling and travelled the full length of the pub. This one section would have originally sat above the main sail (atop the large sail on the right of the ship - see image of a model below).

A model of the original Britannia

This amazing racing yacht was built in 1893 for Albert, Prince of Wales, and was passed down to his son King George V whom after years of racing, decided that his dying wish was for the ship to follow him to the grave - the vessel was sunk by St. Catherine's Deep on 10th July 1036, the exact location remains unknown.

Thankfully the gaff spar was somehow retrieved and now makes for a wonderful pub ornament.

Waking up closely 'encased' on three sides by thick wood is not the most pleasant way to start your Sunday, but once I'd realised I wasn't being gawped at by weeping relatives I manoeuvred my aching body into the smallest rest room imaginable and emptied my internal water bottle.

Upon seeing we were now both awake, the rain clouds pushed the sun out of the way and gave a wet welcome to the day. This welcome intensified throughout our return journey and with it came strong winds and rolling waves.

On the journey back I was gifted a lesson in real helmsmanship; the wind and rain battered our sails and ourselves above the water line, while the wind and the tide conspired to push wave after rolling wave right at us, and all the while I had the tiller. The 26ft long yacht was moved around like a toy duck  in a busy swimming pool.

Many times I found myself leaning at around 45 degrees, while trying to maintain balance and having to push the tiller away from me. Imagine a surfboard travelling along on its left side while you try to sit sideways, with your legs flat across the back, your feet are nearly in the water on the left of the board and you're having to lean towards your toes in order to turn the board towards the right. Now, imagine doing this while the 'surfboard' is leaping up ten feet in the air and then back down ten feet, all within a few seconds, and this happens non-stop for 4 hours!!!

It's making me feel sea sick writing about it but somehow I was fine and loving the thrill on the day, albeit with busted ribs.

Coach Taylor & The (weather worn) Everyman Olympian

Thankfully on that return leg along the world's most expensive strip of water (the Solent), Coach Taylor managed to judge a few good times for me to practise tacking the yacht; an experience I'll never forget.

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...

The Sailing Challenge: Training - In The Drink

I live by the Thames estuary as it heads lazily out past the delights of Southend-on-Sea and into the North Sea, so you'd think I'd find it easy to start The Sailing Challenge...

Some two whole years into The Everyman Olympics, I finally found me a coach.

Thanks more to my relationship than to any close connection to open water, and more precisely thanks to the helpful intervention of my missus grandpa Len - thanks Len!

For you see despite a number of enquiries I'd made (at one point leading me to think I'd have to forfeit the use of a proper Olympic-type vessel), it took the good nature of Len and the positive reaction of one very excellent sailor in Mark Taylor to bring about one particularly expensive, overcast morning in southern England...

Just twenty minutes inside of entering Chichester, I'd met up with Coach Taylor, driven to two shops and found myself driving behind a trailered boat while wearing a skin-tight rubber suit and nearly £250 lighter.



Weebles wobble but they can't fall down

Now some of you may think: Why is he in a wetsuit for sailing? Well the simple answer is that the shop attendant and Mark felt this would be my best investment as unlike with a dry suit, I could wear this for The Triathlon Challenge too. It may be a good investment, it's not my best look.
By 9:30am one Saturday in early February I was stood on a stony beach trying to get my hands into some rubber gloves, while keeping out of the way as Coach Taylor set up the laser; an Olympic category of small sailing boat.

Coach Taylor setting up his own power boat, from which he would guide me.

I was instructed to sit in the one-man laser, holding the tiller and the sheet in a particular way - this would gently take me out towards deeper waters while Mark started his motor boat which he would follow in and guide me from. The motor boat didn't start straight away and by the time Coach Taylor caught up with me I was already in capsized in the water some 80 yards away.

'Well that covers my first lesson then...capsizing' - Coach Taylor

This first session I spent more time in the drink than on the boat, thankfully my wetsuit kept me buoyant, though it it didn't seem to keep me dry - I was joined in my rubber get-up by a few pints of cold seawater, but the ear-to-ear grin showed I wasn't complaining.

Coach Taylor & The Everyman Olympian - note how dry he looks!

As the sun finally showed it's smirky yellow face we packed away, and Mark noticed that somehow I broken a small piece of plastic which essentially had caused me to have a harder time of keeping the darn laser afloat. So maybe there was hope for me yet.

I've since had a few more lessons and been joined in the boat by Coach Taylor. We've managed to stay pretty dry funnily enough. This weekend I'm looking forward to getting out on his yacht for some training on how to better read and maximise the window, and just to show how dedicated I am - I'll be missing the mighty Chelsea against Liverpool in the FA Cup Final...come on you Blues!!