You probably don’t think of me as a particularly competitive sort do you? But some serious madness has taken hold of me this week. I bought a Garmin watch and downloaded Strava onto my phone and I’ve turned into a beast. Whereas I used to occasionally drag myself out for a run, these were relatively gentle affairs, even if sometimes reasonably long, but now…quite different. This little gizmo tracks what you are doing, measures your heart beat, beeps urgently at you and compares sections of your run with what all the other nutters in the vicinity have achieved on a public leaderboard with the person at the top of the list getting a little gold crown to wear. Thus ( I know I sound like Chris Wood ) I am now charging around the countryside like a man possessed. I nearly killed myself on Wednesday evening when I managed to get into 2nd place on a “segment” appropriately named the Woodland Gallop. Karl Procter, whoever you are, I’m coming for you first thing tomorrow morning.
It doesn’t stop there though. Rekindled is my ambition to hit that 2 mins 30 secs target for the 800m which I set myself all those years back. Remember I had hoped to have a crack at it with Seb Coe in Japan at our conference a couple of years back, but that didn’t work out so I’ve lined up a 22 year old from our Mumbai office who tells me he can run a 400m in 61 secs to act as pacemaker. Oh, and, even though I had promised my mother I wouldn’t, I’ve signed up to run the Race to the Stones ultramarathon again next year. Madness.
So, as I told you, I am away next week doing my Day Skipper Practical course. I really hope they don’t probe too much on whether I have already tackled the theory bit of it. I tried, I really did, these last few weeks, but it’s hard, managing the intellectual challenge of my day-job with the requirement of learning, just to pick one small example, how to differentiate 35 different light configurations on a variety of different vessels. Along with a pair of nautical socks, a green one for the left foot and a red one for the right, my parents also sent me a rather sweet little photograph of us three brothers sailing out into in the Arabian Ocean off the coast of Oman. I suppose it might have been sent helpfully to be used if proof were needed that I sailed from an early age. Alas, taken in 1974, it shows a fine disregard for health and safety, and the other problem is I’m the one sitting uselessly in the middle of the boat. Evidence only, that even then, despite being the eldest so I should at least have insisted we all wore life jackets, I was just there for the ride. Fair to say heading down to Menorca tomorrow my cup brimmeth not over with confidence!
PS Just had a phone call from Bob heading home for the weekend. “Quick. Put a tenner on Lavender Lane on the 1.55 at Newmarket. We’re giving the owner’s kids a lift.” Rocked in last. See what I’m dealing with??
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