How to avoid medals

     I spent the week following the Welsh Masters Indoor Field Championships on the 10th of February desperately trying to rehab the pull at the top of my left calf just below the posterior cruciate ligament. Several years ago, I suffered the classic "Sorry - didn't see you" accident on a Ducati 998 when some prat pulled out in front of me on North Road, Cardiff, sending me somersaulting over the bonnet smacking my left knee on the way. That little episode tore my posterior cruciate nearly in two, so I was quite worried what was going on here, the ligament is crucial in the sprinting action. So, by the Wednesday, it was looking decidedly iffy but at least it was starting to recover, however, the weekend was about to deliver the BMAF Indoor Pentathlon Championships, any weaknesses would be sumilary found, exposed and duly punished. So, ice was shipped in by the lorry load, anti-inflammatories were consumed like smarties and various tortuous massages were undertaken and I went, slightly nervously, to the Lee Valley track, London the week later.

     I checked in, noted which survivors had made it, and went to warm up for the first event of the indoor pentathlon, the 60m hurdles. If there was any weakness there, I was about to expose it. Sure enough, as I did my first gentle stride, I felt it, oh sh.... Well I was there now so may as well blow it in the race rather that give up that easy. Half hour later, having ingested more pain relief, I was feeling OK and had managed a couple of hurdles, but not the all important start, so here we go chaps. Reacted to the gun like a wet kipper and drifted serenely to the first hurdle which I took on the wrong leg as I was going too slow, even by my standards, and was dead last. Thankfully as I wound it up and passed Andrew Rushbrook, the afore mentioned injury faded away, more of a relief than an expectation. I clocked 11.26 off 4 strides which was half a second outside my best and placed me 4th.

     How I got away with that I don't know, but I'd have to celebrate that later, next up was the long jump and the timetable said it started 5 minutes ago as they'd only allowed 10 minutes between events. We did our best to get things started quickly despite the mutterings, the officials were very appreciative of the situation and we all made the best of it in good humour. For my part, I was struggling to avoid getting plasticine on my spikes again. Round 1 safety, 4.58m and a season's best just off last year's top performance. Round 2 and 3 were, of course no-jumps by less than 1cm, a familiar story but, unlike the hurdles it was ahead of target, but being the 3rd best jumper still left me 4th overall behind leader Ian Crawley, Derek Osbourne and Pete Stepney.

     The ridiculous timetable now had us 45 minutes behind schedule as we all went straight to the shot circle, this was a chance to move up a place. I'm not a good shot putter at the best of times, so now was not the best time to go out of my way to prove it. I opened with 7.60m, followed that with an incredulous 6.50m, and finally scraped up the 7.67m throw I had used earlier in the year. It did move me up a place though, just, in fact by 1 point ahead of Pete.

     Going into the 4th event later that afternoon, after a sensible rest, I had hopes my high jumping could widen that gap. I'd predicted 1.35m slightly pessimistically due to being slightly injured. Cautiously, I opted to start at 1.25m should be dead easy for a 1.40m jumper to clear shouldn't it. Nope had it off, had to take two jumps to clear it. So it was a surprise to clean 1.30m, but that was luck, I took a further two attempts at 1.35m and my right calf had decided to cramp so not looking good as Pete was going clear too. 1.38m was the next height in the progression and after two failures it didn't look good, especially as Pete, Derek and Ian were all clear. Somehow I produced an immaculate clearance with my 3rd attempt, not even brushing the bar. Unfortunately, I'm only allowed one of those per year, so it was no surprise when I failed out at 1.41m, thankfully so did Pete, but Derek went on to 1.47m and Ian stretched his lead still further clearing 1.56m.

     The final event is the 1000m, and is by far my worst event, so sitting in 3rd by a point meant Pete only needed to beat me by 0.2 seconds to take the bronze medal. Instead he beat me by over 41 seconds as I just managed to hang on to Andy as the bear and his flaming fridge jumped on me with 300m to go, and keep hold of 4th place. My total was 2654, 45 off target but injury free, that was a surprise in itself. I went home slightly annoyed - 4th again - but I had thoroughly enjoyed the day despite the timetable fiasco, so celebrations were allowed.

     This time I had something a bit special and out of the ordinary to drink, yes another single malt, not original I know, but this one is significantly different. Some of you may be familiar with the Bruichladdich distillery on Islay, Scotland, most, probably not (they do make the Botanist Gin).

They make heavily peated Islay single malts, similar to Bowmore, Ardbeg, Lagavulin and of course Laphroiag. Well if you think they are strong, Bruichladdich do a single malt called Octomore 09.1 and has 4 times the peat of Laphoiag and is served at 59.1%ABV, so no naked lights. I daren't add any water in case it exploded, but my word, drinking that was an experience. Apart from the mouthful of peat, you get oily lemon citrus and it is surprisingly smooth. Then after it's left your mouth, it sneaks back and delivers  a long, long peated finish. I visited Bruichladdich a few years ago, and can confirm they are slightly bonkers making things like their range (yes there is a range ) of Octomores. One they had only at the distillery was twice the peat to the 09.1. I digress again, though I will have to have a quick break and a drink......

     The weekend following the pentathlon saw me gain selection for Wales in the English Masters Inter Area challenge, this year I was up for the 60m and 200m, as somehow I was the only 50-59 sprinter available, must be the weather or something as I was nor going that quickly. Anyway, I rocked up minus any poles and got stuck in to the 60m warm up, still feeling the knee from last week, but the calf was fine after being treated to the single peat which I was sure I could still taste. I noticed that the other regions had managed to get their M50 stars out, so as a M55 vaulter, this would be tough. When we went to our marks I noticed Pat Logan was missing so there was hope in not being last. In fact I was 5th in 8.67 (SB) behind 4 M50s so I had to be happy with that despite the poor start I now seem to have adopted.

The 200m was a whole different ball game, I was indeed last (28.49), and by over a second, which was frustrating as I nailed the start, ran a good bend and was right in the mix until I tripped over a fridge in the back straight and a large furry creature stuck lead weights onto my legs. Many thanks to Neil Tunstall and John Statham for showing me how it should be done. The final event for me was the 4x200m Relay, always a great race and as lead off man a lot depended one me getting the team a start. Well again, I nailed the start (why?). This time the fridge was found in the home straight, but the team didn't have it's quota of sprinters and we faded to 3rd.

     I had two weeks of intensive training after that, I was injury free but lacking in vault time, but at least I was getting quicker and things were looking good in the long jump if I could hit the board and not the plasticine. I arrived early for the BMAF championships day 1 to do the 60m and the long jump, not expecting too much on the track other than maybe a season's best. I found myself lining up along side the inimitable Donald Brown, one of a few sprinters nearly a second faster than me over the short sprint - oh dear this could be embarrassing. No it wasn't, I did get a decent start and was with Donald for 20m, when I mis-stepped and Donald vanished, seemly into thin air. I caught up with him at the cushion wall as he was shaking everyone's hand, remarkably I was 3rd in 8.50. That was that I thought, won't make the final with that, so I prepared for the long jump. The pentathlon timetable debacle had lead me to change my long jump spikes to my old sprint spikes, and so it was today. I was flying in the two warm up jumps. Guess how I started the comp, yep - NJ! On the second jump I ran through so was now under pressure to make the cut. I messed up so badly on the 3rd jump that I took off from the wrong foot, at least on the board, and recorded 4.48m and made the cut. I changed the run up back to 2018's settings, but followed that with 3 no jumps all by less than 1cm and all in excess of  4.60m. To rub my nose into it, I was 4th - again! During the final rounds they announced the 60m finalists and I was in the final AND not the slowest qualifier. The final came round pretty quickly, and I have to say I was still feeling the 6 rounds of intensive long jump therapy, so there should be no surprise that I didn't hit the start well and was well down in 5th (8.57) as Pat Logan took it from Donald Brown in indecently fast times.

     Day 2 was vault day, and I was feeling rusty plus extra tired from the addition 60m event, and in warm up the run up refused to work, it took me 6 attempts to get it working well enough to take off, not good. And that's how the event went, crashed trough my opening height on my first attempt. second one was much better and we slithered over 2.50m. Went to 2.60m and struggled again, just couldn't get any penetration, but I did get over it. The three failing attempts at 2.70m were much the same, a work very much in progress, so 6th place and nothing to celebrate.

Happy new year or not?

I never know when the previous season ends and the next one starts, sure the outdoor season is over by October (well in Wales anyway), but does the indoor season start before or after the new year?

By some miracle I found myself fit enough to compete in the Cardiff Met Christmas Classic on the 16th December, so was this still the 2018 season or would it be 2019? The confusion is based on what good old Power of 10 does. Now, my interest was mostly on the Pole Vault and Long Jump as usual, I had some unfinished business with my 2018 results - could do better.  So I was hoping to improve my season's bests in both events but this would depend on what Po10 considers "This season" when listing Outdoors vs Indoors. For instance, if you list the 2019 Long Jump Rankings for the M55 Outdoors, it lists only performances from 2019 but all are currently flagged as Indoor performances, if you change to Indoors you get some extra ones from the end of 2018.

Putting this less than interesting discussion to one side before we all die of boredom, I found myself warming up well for the vault. My one training session had suggested 3.0m was a distinct possibility which would be a season's best in whatever year Po10 wanted. On my third run through I did indeed slither over a 3.30m bungee bar, so I was on song for once. Well so I thought anyway, lady luck had other plans for me as usual. The competition started at a leisurely rate and I entered at 2.60m, first vault is always my worst, so it should be no surprise that it all went terribly wrong once again, at least I didn't break anything, uprights, bar, pole and bones included. Sadly vault 2 was a disaster, half way down the runway as I hit the gas button, my right calf gave way and cramped up, resulting in another catastrophic failure. I took my third attempt, which was surprisingly the best of the trio despite the pain that had appeared in my leg. So that was that, end of season or a failure to start the season as I had to withdraw from the long jump.

I guess you all know how I drowned my sorrows once again, but it involved a bottle of Macallan 10 year old Fine Oak, and very fine it is too. Being a typical Macallan Speyside malt that I'm sure a lot of you have seen in Tescos, the taste has that familiar sherry oaky-ness to it with the remnants of the Bourbon cask it was aged in. Its quite oily and smooth to drink with a lovely finish as it slides down leaving a little nutty flavour.

Christmas was approaching fast so, I basically took an early break from training to rehab the calf which was thankfully successful. Whiskymas, as I have now christened it, was fun from a single malt perspective.

The above Mcallan took a bit of a beating as you would expect and I sneaked what was the last but one shot from my 1960 Strathisla, I may have to invest in another one of them despite the huge cost as it's so darn good. Like the Mcallan, its very oaky with rich chewy fruitiness, with butterscotch and sherry flavours and full of smokeyness which is slightly unusual for a Highland malt, more typical of the neighbouring Speyside offerings. It's unusual, but that is because it pre-dates the era of consistency, by which I mean the casks bottled varied but the distilleries didn't worry as they do now. So no effort was made to make every bottle taste the same by vatting loads of casks before bottling. Anyway, I wouldn't rush out to buy one though, if you can find one it'll cost over £500 - I bought mine years ago for about £50, and a second for £120 which I can no longer afford to replace.

The new year was ushered in with the resumption of some serious training with the Welsh Masters indoor track championships less than three weeks away, this was focused on sorting out my diabolical block start. I actually managed to do this without injuring myself for once, so I was feeling pretty good when I sauntered into the Non Thomas Cardiff Met Open meeting at NIAC on the 20th of January. I'd entered the 60m and the 200m, and ducked the 400m as it was immediately after the 200m and I wasn't that fit. Sadly the 60m didn't go that well, I thought I started well but there were too many ahead of me for that to be so. When I saw the Welsh Masters Athletics Association photos, I could see I was  4th out of the blocks, so a crap start by anyone's standard. On the upside, I did win the race, all thanks to a blistering second 30m. The time was nothing special: 8.74, my second worst time, narrowly beating one I clocked several years ago when I tripped out the blocks attempting to do a Jamaican start. I felt it was a promising start as I'd only really done half a dozen sessions, the 200m should be better.

After enjoying the couple of hours recovery, a luxury I'm not usually afforded, I lined up for M55 200m as the only one entered from WMAA. My opposition were a trio of English guests from the younger age groups, so I was unlikely to keep pace despite their banter to the contrary. Sure enough, I started well, (well better than the 60m anyway), and hit the first bend as hard as I could. Nevertheless, I drifted back from the others. I dug deep on the final bend but only succeeded in digging myself a hole full of treacle through which it felt like I was dragging a fridge. Through the bleary head spinning haze I managed to clock 28.85. Time for a lie down and - yes - when I got home the rest of the Macallan was consumed by way of celebration of the two medals but also to forget the times.

My next competition was the second part of the Welsh Masters championships, the field events at the Swansea indoor "Track" on the 10th February. I concentrated once more on the vault and hurdles as the latter is the first event in the indoor pentathlon that I intended to enter later that month, and the vault is of course one of my preferred disciplines. I was unable to maintain the wave of common sense that had preceeded the previous meeting, and I entered all five events - Long Jump, Shot Putt, High Jump, Pole Vault and Triple Jump. This would be demanding and good preparation for the multi-event championship later in the month. I opened my account with the shot, not a sparkling throw but acceptable at 7.67m, then it was across to the adjacent long jump and my first attempt to claim the no. 1 spot in Wales. I made it three quarters of the way down the runway before my left calf decided enough was enough and painfully turned to reinforced concrete. I did jump as I was travelling too quick to stop, and rather embarrassingly took 2nd place with 4.14m to go with 3rd in the shot.

I left early feeling rather deflated after allowing the leg some time to recover with a bag of ice from St. Johns. As I strapped the unused poles to the roof of the car, I wondered if I would recover in time for next week's BMAF Pentathlon, it was going to be touch and go, so I went.  When I had driven the 55 miles home in a real sulk, I realised I had left my kit bag in the car park, yet another senior moment that couldn't be blamed on the whisky. My brother in law drove me back down but the bag had gone, along with my wallet. Then something strange happened, my bank texted me to thank me for letting them know I'd lost my payment card, which I had yet to do. Either they were psycic or my wife had rung them. Turned out to be neither, one of the meeting officials had rescued my bag and contacted the bank to try to locate me, so after a couple of phone calls I was reunited with my kit and cards in time for dinner.

The seasons ending

Well it all seemed to have come to a rather sudden and slightly bloody ending in the Sheffield decathlon. My aductor was well and truly shredded and I thought that was that for 2018. I came back from the BMAF Decathlon championships expecting at least eight weeks of physio and rehab which would take me way past the end of the outdoor season. As an ageing M55  master even I was surprised at the speed of my recovery, so like an idiot I entered the BMAF outdoor championships, I can hear voices saying "Doesn't this guy ever learn?" - well obviously not as my history clearly shows. Anyway, I was back on the track after only 4 weeks, when I say  track I mean the field opposite for my sins. I got an additional surprise when I received a selection letter to represent East Wales at the Vault in the Welsh Inter-regional Championships in  Brecon the day before the BMAF Pole Vault in Birmingham. I accepted of course, two vaults in two days - easy (?)

The Midlands League followed three weeks after the decathlon disaster, and I had the good sense to drop out for once. Sadly this cost me my No. one pole vaulting spot in the club as my deputant broke his PB by 30cm. At least the team performed outstandingly and we finished mid table instead of being relegated. Seems the team (above) do better when I officiate than when I compete.

I managed to get a track session and one vaulting session in before having to make my way to Brecon on the 25th August for the Inter-Regionals. I had hopes of at least getting a height this time, might even make up for missing out in the decathlon by claiming a medal - well maybe. This minimalistic training approach was new and unproven, true I didn't need to be super fit to vault but it was a  basic requirement to have some sort of clue as to what you're doing. I can't say I helped things by cracking open my bottle of Glen Scotia by way of a psychological boost, as this classic Cambeltown malt did slow down the recoveries a bit.

Glen Scotia is not for the feint hearted, it's one of only 3 remaining distilleries in the town of Campbeltown that once boasted 25 and stands apart from the larger Springbank and the recently restarted Glengyle. The house style is rich with spicy fruit, rather like fruit cake with vanilla and toffee, and the Double Cask expression doesn't disappoint if that's what you like. Yes, sorry the different bottlings get called "expressions" in the world of single malts, and Glen Scotia has been expressing itself since 1832 so I think they've earned it. Trouble with something that good and that different is that it doesn't last long enough, so I was forced to open my bottle of Glen Grant Major's Reserve to back it up.

I digress, but it was a tasty digression. But to Brecon. Got there early with my daughter who had also been selected for the 3000m and 1500m, a tough double by anyone's standard. The weather had been kind too, so I was all set for the vault, and according to the time table I would get to watch my Chloe run the 3K first. Ha! Fat chance. The track time table slipped and  the 3000m got underway during my warm up for the vault which was going from bad to worse. Now, being a Powell means you're not blessed with a great deal of common sense when it comes to athletics, so it was no surprise to me to see her run herself into the ground  and to the point of collapse on the last lap. So I had to grab her inhaler and race from the vault to the 3000m start (20m!) then to the finish where she promptly collapsed having taken the bronze. Having nursed her back onto her feet, I jogged back to the vault, in time to get my opening vault (2.50m) on the 3rd attempt, I really have to stop doing that, my nerves can't take it. Being the greedy type I like to get my money's worth, so I took two attempts at the  next height and then three at 2.70m. Beyond that, my legs were giving out, thanks to the minimal training and the round trip to the finish plus the 8 vaults thus far. Unfortunately, I was unable to match my daughter's medal as I just missed out in 4th. At least I wasn't injured, but I had to hold of celebrations for the next day in Birmingham.

Sunday dawned with rain, and a lot of Tom Phillips's photos show how the many masters had to battle the wind that came with it. As I drove up the M5 (again), I found myself doubting the wisdom of this, a dodgy aductor, no fitness and vaulting in the rain. That was only going to end badly, but it was the last hurrah of 2018 regardless. I hadn't entered the World Master's championships due to a lack of holiday entitlement, but now I was glad I hadn't as I was expecting injury any minute, even driving the car was a risk. On arrival at Masters HQ also known as Alexander Stadium, I was glad to be informed the vault had retreated indoors to the High Performance Centre due to health and safety - result! The master's championships are always a bit of a social gathering as well as the renown intense physical battles that take place, so I was able to pass the time before competing chatting to all and sundry in the dry, comparing results and injuries and re-affirming the fact that, no, I wasn't going to Malaga. I began my warm up and could immediately feel my aductor complain about being in England competing, not a good  sign. Still the vaulting seemed better and so it was. I started at 2.50m as usual and promptly clattered it, this was becoming a bit of a tradition, and an annoying one at that.Second attempt was bang on the money and we were away. 2.60m came  and went first time but the pain had started. Took me a couple of attempts to nail 2.70m and that was as far as I was able to take it, ending my 2018 campaign with three narrow failures and finishing 5th overall.

Looking back over my season, I had a significant set of ups and downs. The year started badly with the passing of my friend and fellow vaulter John Howe, but then, in the indoors, it perked up with 5 medals. I spent the year hoping to break the club's long jump record but missed by 3cm  and finally clocked myself with a big injury, thankfully now recovered. Training is progressing as the 2019 indoor season approaches, and once again I will miss the World Masters Indoor Championships, this time I'm off to Madeira which is probably going to be warmer than Poznan.

The Sheffield jinx

My training focus shifted to the BMAF decathlon on the 14-15th of July in Sheffield after the ups and downs of the pentathlon. First though I had to rehab my hamstring after venturing out for an unfamiliar road run, normally I'd pull this doing some sort of sprinting torture, but somehow I managed to find a way of doing the same whilst drifting serenely along my local streets. It responded well to the ice and whisky treatment, by which I mean I applied ice to the dodgy hamstring whilst enjoying a glass or three of my favourite single malts. As you well know you don't put ice in a single malt, that would be silly.

Before getting back to some decent speed endurance training, I decided that this Park Run thingy that I did with the wife should be taken a bit more seriously, after all it seems to get non-athletic types fit. So far I'd just jogged along quietly with my wife taking 40-50 minutes out of our Saturday morning, but I could probably do one in under half an hour bear or no bear. However, the first run out didn't go that way. I had to act as water barer for my wife as the day was hot and the bottle of water was too big to carry - well I carried it anyway. Trouble was I had to stop each lap to wait for her to catch up and have her drink. I think I did 32 minutes of running and 15 minutes of waiting. Got up the next day stiff as a plank and confused as to why, I must have forgotten the whisky again.

The next Midlands League was 4 weeks away and coincided with the English Master's inter area challenge, so I was glad to be getting back to some serious training along side all this mucking about in the trees in the park. I did a session of 200's (nice and easy in 35 secs) over the field and the only wildlife encountered was my mate the bear with his well stocked fridge, a promising start. Then it was a return to the track for some speed work, not looking to shabby all things considered. I even fitted in some throwing and the odd vaulting session, things  were re-building nicely.

Team selection for the  Master's Inter area initially left me just as a relay runner, the trouble with being a decathlete is you probably won't be first choice for any particular event and so it was, I ranked 2nd or 3rd in something like 5 events. But you can always rely on someone getting injured, trouble was half the flipping Welsh team seemed to drop out and but for a time table clash with the hurdles, I got selected for all four jumps and the relay. Now remember this was to be the day after the Midlands league, so 8 events over the weekend would certainly test my resilience.

The Midlands League was our home match so turnout was good, but not good enough to prevent me doing three events, inevitably the pole vault, the high jump and now the triple jump. The day dawned hot and sunny with little wind, perfect conditions to make a pigs ear of things. True to form I nearly no-heighted in the vault, taking three attempts to scramble over 2.50m, before going on to clear 2.70m on a borrowed pole and on a shortened run up. It did put a smile back on my face at least, sadly short lived as I followed the 2nd place with another no-heighting in the high jump. I just can't seem to get the 1.40m starting height, that's three time in a row now. With that still ringing in my ears, I had to get things back together for the triple jump, which was going to be interesting. The Midlands league specify nothing less than the 9m board can be used, which makes for some exciting jumping when your best jump for the last four years has been 8.84m. The run up was at least well trodden in the long jump but I triple jump off the opposite foot because I want the 3rd phase to be off the best jumping leg. Thankfully, this daft approach worked perfectly, opening jump was 9.61m which actually broke the club's Masters 55 record. In celebration of this the second and third rounds were no-jumps as I removed the plasticine from the board using my foot, each time making the pit with ease.

On the back of this semi-successful performance, I went to Solihull for the Masters event determined to set some season's bests and better if  I could. First up was the long jump for once and I have to say it's not my favourite run up as the pit is set against the sports centre giving you the impression you're running straight into the wall. It's getting rather predictable, but I was plagued by blasted no jumps once again. Fortunately, I opened with 4.66m just short of my best this year, so the following fouls didn't hurt too much, and my final jump of only 4.54m didn't really matter. It was nevertheless a successful event as I placed 4th. My next event was supposed to be the triple jump, but the timetable was slipping badly and I had to warm up for vault at the same time. Unfortunately it slipped so badly that I only managed one rubbish jump of 9.12m, barely skimming into the pit off of the 9m board.. Comes from being too cocky from the day before, but I was more focused on the vault so I scratched from the triple before I came unstuck. 

It sort of worked, I came into the vault at my preferred opening height of 2.52m and cleared easily, not sure why I couldn't do that the day before, but I was glad of a confident start. I went on to vault fairly well to come 2nd with 2.82m, improving my season's best by 2cm and lifting me to 6th in the rankings by myself. Buoyed by this success I moved on to the high jump, this time I could set my opening height more sensibly than the previous day. I opened at 1.30m and flopped easily onto the bed, which was when I realised I had burnt my shoulders and neck in the Brummie sun. I managed 1.35m for a season's best but 1.40m eluded me once more but I was happy with 4th as the height had been close. This all left me rather tired and stiff, and just a little bit sore despite the application of factor 20, I really wasn't up for the 4x100m relay. I needn't have worried about my legs feeling like I was wearing concrete wellies full of cold porridge, I got a decent start and after 20m the after burners lit and I ran a good leg. We finished 3rd behind a very strong Midlands side as did Wales in the overall match.

I was a bit stiff on Monday to say the least, but nothing serious, so I wound down for the forthcoming decathlon on the next weekend. This involved finishing off the remains of my Highland Park Dark Origins single malt. It's got a  really rich sherry oak taste but it still retains the characteristic heathery honey flavours that this top class distillery is known for. It certainly made me feel relaxed as the weekend's BMAF decathlon approached, little did I know what trials and tribulations were waiting for me.

Friday came as it does, I was half day so I could get to Sheffield in time to drop off my poles at the stadium as they wouldn't fit into the hotel bedroom on the top floor. As you know it had been a scorchingly hot summer and it chose this Friday to break, quite spectacularly as I approached Worcester. I noticed the wipers were a little sluggish as they hadn't moved in a while, then the traffic announced an accident just up ahead, so I left the queue on the M5 and headed for Evesham. I didn't get far before the wipers packed up completely and I had to stop and call the RAC. The replacement motor cost me £250 and 2 hours, meaning I could no longer get to stadium in time for the second year in a row and had to leave the poles on  the roof rack overnight in the pouring rain.

Anyway, traffic mishaps behind me I made the start line on day 1 for the 100m in good shape and raring to take on my friends and rivals and hopefully right last year's no-height in the vault. Disappointingly I got a medium start reacting too slow to the gun, but we were recalled as John Dickinson false started. My second start was bang on and I won in a season's best of 13.42 a bit down on target, but a good enough start. Moving on to the long jump and feeling good, I determined to play it safe in round one remembering the fiaso of the pentathlon and surprised myself with 4.45m without trying. Sadly, but not surprisingly, that was all I managed as the curse of the no jump returned to haunt me in the next two rounds, as I struggled with the wind. I dropped to third as a result as Ian Crawley took the lead. Next up was the shot, not my strongest event, but memories of last year spurred me to get it right for once. I can't say I nailed it, but it was above target so I can take the 8.12m especially as it pushed me back up to 2nd just ahead of my friend Pete Stepney. Event 4, the high jump, was interesting, I'd spent the whole season just missing 1.40m, so I'd set the target at 1.37m being a realist. Came in at 1.28m and duly hit it off - fat butt jumping, before focusing on the task at hand and the issue with my run up. I got to 1.40m cleanly but took it off - just - with my first attempt. Jump two was much better and what was my 14th attempt this year to get it, I cleared it. The attempts at 1.43m weren't too bad but that was it for the high jump - secure in 2nd. The final event of day one is the man killer 400m. I'd done a couple of time trials which suggested 65-66 seconds was possible, but more was needed. Gun went and I drove out hard and set about shadowing Pete down the back straight. We rounded the top bend and I moved up to Pete's shoulder. I knew who was waiting in the home straight for me, the bear, his fridge, his cousin and a few others all leapt on me with 80 to go. I hung on the line but felt that was a bad run as my head continued round the bend whilst my legs headed for the stand. So you can imagine my shock at running a M55 PB of 63.58 and hanging on to second place overnight with 2969 points, just 64 points off target.

So to day 2 and the 100m hurdles. I'd undergone a two bag ice bath and a massage so wasn't feeling bad, though tired. Warm up went well, I even helped move and reset the hurdles from the  M60 settings. I settled and got a poor start but John repeated his party trick and we were recalled again. Start two was much better, so I nailed hurdle one and two and started to race well. I got over 5 and twisted and felt a sharp pain in my left leg but I was committed to take 6 or crah into it, and something really went big time in my adductor. I managed to jump the rest on my right leg but that was the end of my decathlon and my season. I had torn the left aductor really badly as it bled internally and went the colour of an aubergine. Ian went on to win the decathlon with Pete second and John third.

I went back to the hotel and made friends with the bar's bottle of Talisker, all that worrying about the poles and vaulting was for nothing for thhe second year running. That's athletics for you.

Old friends

Flushed with the shock success of the East Wales Regional Athletics Championships, I set about putting an edge onto my fitness and speed, well that was the theory anyway. The next competition was not far away and consisted of a double header of the Midlands League followed by the BMAF Pentathlon the next day. I had some fitness but I was sure it wasn't enough to cope with that.

I can't say my response to this was entirely in line with what was required. The weekend following the EWRAC meeting I was supposed to go to  Neath for a Welsh Senior League, instead I headed in the opposite direction, and visited my other passion, a distillery.

Steel washbacks next to the copper Gin still

It was no ordinary trip to the Cotswolds Distillery in Stourton, it was to take part in what they termed 'An investors tour'. The Cotswolds Distillery were running a CrowdFunding campaign to raise capital to extend their already successful distillery and I was interested in what they had to say. Well, the tour was quite enlightening, there was a science to what they did as you'd expect, but also a little magic. Now I don't mean the intervention of Mr. Harry Potter, what I mean by that is the way they distill their Gin in the same environment that they brew and distill their whisky. This allows the vapours and yeasts to cross-fertilise each other in a very empirical way.

A quick lesson in whisky. You take barley and soak it in warm water to start it germinating, then you heat it to stop it sprouting and you have malted barley. Next you grind it into grist and dissolve it in hot water to extract the sugars and starches, that gives you a liquid called Wort. You add yeast to the Wort and brew a strong yucky beer. That is what is going on in the silver vessels in the photo above. On the right is one of their gin stills. At the end of the brewing the liquid, now named wash, is about 8%ABV and is fed into the wash still.

The Cotswolds single malt at the launch last year.

The spirit emerges at 20-25%ABV and goes to the second spirit still that produces the new spirit at 70ish% ABV. It's not Whisky at this point and is also a clear liquid, it now needs to be aged in oak casks for 3 years and a day. At the Cotswolds Distillery this gives the surrounding Cotswolds Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty a chance to add its influence.

It leads to a slightly flowery spirit, and that's just the whisky, the gins are something else, they are into fruit in a big way. As you probably guessed I was taken by their setup and yes, now I'm a share holder in a distillery. Anyway that all nicely fuelled the discussions in the distillery's little bar where we tried just about everything they make, by the end of the day I could barely remember being an athlete.

The following week reality re-asserted itself and I got back to some serious training with the approaching double header of the Midlands League and the BMAF Pentathlon Championships. The two weeks flew by and training progressed well in all areas except in the endurance work, where despite my efforts I couldn't cover two miles in much less than 20 minutes resulting me needing immediate CPR.

The Midlands League was in Burton, the heart of England's brewing industry, so not really considered a hidden citadel. I drove up with my daughter and arrived at the track without issue and setup ready to vault. Time ran by and people arrived from the other clubs, but not from Newport. With barely 10 minutes before the first event the coach rolled up, apparently they had driven past the track on the A38 no less than three times. It was not a good start and it turned into a pretty average day. On the upside, I cleared a couple of heights in the vault, on the downside I failed out in the high jump and the club were 6th. My daughter did seven events and got 2 PBs and was voted our athlete of the round - I'll never hear the last of it.

The next day I drove to Oxford for the BMAF Pentathlon and a step into the unknown. The outdoor pentathlon consists of the long jump, javelin, 200m, discus and 1500m, so the day would be a mixture of strong events and weak. At least it started with one of my best - or so I thought. Warm up for the long jump went well, my 28.20m run up seemed bang on the board. Round 1 then, in the interest of safety I moved back 10cm and went for it - No Jump! OK round 2, safety, went back 30cm (board+10cm), went for it again - No Jump!! Last round then, all or nothing, so back 50cm and I went for it. Missed the plasticine by a millimetre and broke my M55 PB with 4.69m having extended my run up by almost 1m. The javelin turned out to be slightly less dramatic, I went for safety on the first throw and hit the ground just over 21m. Round two was somewhat predictable as my right arm betrayed itself as being more suited to aerobatics than throwing. The final throw was at least near my target distance and almost bordered decency. Moving on to my best event, not my favourite due to the endurance required, I had high hopes of pulling back some of the deficit created by the javelin as the middle order places were very tight. The 200m had the potential to go badly wrong, time trials leading up to the event placed me over a second adrift, or it might not. I was drawn in lane one, so at least no one was going to sneak up on me, and being short the tight bend might suit.

New spikes for going round corners or are they just skew wiff

Add to this my new spikes that were specifically designed to go round corners and we could be OK, though I'm not sure about the straight. Anyway, my start was just legal - on the 'B' of the bang as my mate Colin Jackson would say - and I hit the accelerator like I was being chased by a Velociraptor. To my surprise I hit the straight in  the lead and despite being caught by said Velociraptor with 50m to go I hung on for a half decent win in 27.00. Slightly worryingly the world now seemed to be revolving in a clockwise direction, and I was sure I hadn't touched any single malts, I needed a lie down. Unfortunately, unlike the Olympics, we all had to walk (or trudge in my case) back to the start to collect our kit, where were the kit carriers when you need them?

I did manage some sort of recovery for the discus, which was fortunate as I may have thrown it anywhere considering spinning in my state of disarray could of ended up in hilarity. Well, I threw a M55 PB surprisingly, after a safe one then a crap one. I think I was up to 4th at this point, but we all know what was coming next. The 1500m was never going to go well with me being fresh, so knackered before I started was a bad omen. Sure enough after only 300m I felt the presence of the fridge on my back. By a lap later I was sure it was one of those giant American jobs that dispensed ice, but the bear carrying it wouldn't let me have any. At the 1000m mark things were  drifting in and out of focus and I have to thank Andy Rushbrooke for running with me until the last 300m as I would probably have got lost. It wasn't the worst 1500 I've 'run' but it was darn close: 7:05.90 which dropped me to 6th. My daughter hasn't stopped laughing since, the 'but I did 4 other events' excuse didn't hold any whisky as she had done more and run over a minute faster.

The M55 Pentathlon result.

My total of 2446 was 50 points short of my target, which was a shame as 3 of my events had exceeded expectations, whereas the 1500 had exceeded expectations in the opposite way. Still it was a club record as was the discus (not sure how that happened).

I resolved to up the mileage, well actually to do some mileage would be more accurate. So after 2 days rest, it was over the fields for some 200's to start with and lo and behold my old mate the bear had found his way home from Oxford. Half way through the set and my other old friend, the stupid Dalmatian also re-appeared and that was the end off that, I wasn't going to risk it again. The following weeks were going to be hard, hurdles were introduced the week after the pentathlon, after a decent vault session at NIAC. I was feeling quite good about sliding over a 3.10m bungee bar, when a certain Mrs. Bradshaw turned up to train. They soon had a proper bar at 4m, and off a short run up using something that looked like a piece of scaffolding for a pole she just flew over with feet to spare. It was easy to see why Hollie is the UK no. 1 and I'm not. Two days later I pulled my hamstring trying to run 2 miles just to underline this fact, what will happen next?

Another false start

I ended the last posting on an upbeat note, looking forward to the new season but without being properly fit for it. Watch this space I said. Well personally I'd rather nobody was watching as I proceeded to make what can only be described as a pigs ear of things at the first round of the Welsh Senior League in Cardiff.

The trouble with competing on a Sunday is that it tends to follow a Saturday night, and being particularly weak willed, I prepared for the first match of the season by sampling my 12 year old Craigellachie from the Old Malt Cask range from the independent bottler Hunter Laing.

Its a near cask strength "expression" at 50%ABV, and there are a few different versions depending upon the year of distilling and bottling, all of which are a bit difficult to find and aren't exactly cheap. The malt starts with strong a vanilla flavour, then follows on with a lemon citrus body and a soft fruity finish, all of which means it slides down effortlessly after the initial smack. Can't say I detected much sherry considering that is the cask type used. Some people may prefer to add a little water to a single malt that comes at 50% ABV. Me I just drink it as it comes,  all of which means that the next morning is going to be a bit sticky. So my efforts in my first event of the Welsh League, the long jump, were somewhat below par.

I started the jump with a safe one, remembering my tendency to overstep the mark, and landed rather expectantly at 4.06m. It was quite clear from that, that the single malt had almost completely removed my ability to take off, and had also transposed my sprinting technique to that of a race walker. I re-doubled my efforts in round 2,  but the inevitable outcome befell me once more. There then followed three no jumps as I was unable to resist toeing the plasticine again, no matter what tweaks I made to my run up. What came in my next event, the pole vault, was just too sad to be true. I warmed up perfectly OK but was unable to reproduce it in the competition once again - failed out on my opening height as my arms were unable to work out what they were supposed to do with the 14 foot fibre stick they were holding. I went home feeling shell shocked in search of the Craigellachie but unfortunately I got distracted by a bottle of Highland Park, that worked as well, as far as I remember.

Unfortunately I had picked up some tendinitis in my right ankle, probably from the vault, the only saving grace was that it was not my take off leg, so hopefully it would recover enough by the next meeting in two weeks time to allow me to vault. Once again training moved onto the exercise bike as I  tried to move forward, whilst spending hours with my foot freezing the brass monkeys off in an assortment of ice buckets at every opportunity. That combined with a slightly unhealthy intake of Ibuprofen did manage to clear it up in  time to do another speed-endurance session over the fields on the Thursday before the Midland League on Sunday. I was feeling quite good so decided on 4x200m in 32 secs as it had been dry for almost 2 whole days and the mud had receded. First one went well, did feel a little stiff so 33 secs was acceptable. No.2 went as horribly wrong as it could. As I kicked off into the second rep, I noticed I had been joined by a dog walker, about the same time the dog noticed it had company that was infinitely more exciting than any ball. The dog headed straight for me, here we go again I thought, let him get close and kick like the previously encountered Dalmatian. Didn't work this time though, the dog must have been trained by an Irish rugby player as he took out my right leg, wrapped it round my left and Sir Isaac Newton did the rest.

I removed the mud from my knees and ears, brushed myself down, uttered a few expletives at the puzzled dog and walked back to do it again, this time without the acrobatics. The owner collected his mutt and left silently looking a bit sheepish. I completed the rest of the session with a string of 31's although the frigid bear was well and truly on my shoulder at the end.

What came next was too distressing to be shown

I took the decision to compete and happily drove to Stourport-on-Severn for our first Midland League, though I was soon regretting that choice. It was a scorching hot day and there was little shade or wind to alleviate the heat. I'm just not used to sweating in the morning in the UK. Anyway, warm up didn't go well, ankle hurt like **** and I was barely landing on the bed, forcing me to drop my opening height. It didn't work though, failed out again, had I got a height I'd have been at least 3rd, and may even have gone on to claim second. You can imagine I was not best pleased, but I had another event to cover, the high jump, so put it away and focus on the intricacies of Dick Fosbury's technique. Regrettably, there was a minimum opening height of 1.40m which was above my current season's best and that of the last five years so anybody want to guess what came next? Well, my second attempt was darn close, gnats whisker and all that, but nope, didn't get it. Had to go home with nil-points. It was a long way to go to get sun burnt and a kicking. As a team we were last(7th), had I got a height in the vault we'd have been 6th and if by a miracle had I got 1.40m, then we'd have been 5th! Once home I consoled myself with a few measures of Cotswold's singles, deciding that I hadn't earned anything better, which is a bit cruel as its a very nice tipple for one so young.

I was quite surprised how quickly I recovered  physically after the hangover had worn off, so much so that I actually went down to the track to do a sprint session on the Tuesday. I was even more surprised that I completed it without injury! Furthermore, I even thought I'd do a vaulting session to try to sort out the mess I'd made the weekend before. It actually went well, I started using a smaller pole in the hope of landing on the bed, which mostly seemed to work thereby proving I can't use the 14 foot 135 pound (yet). So how would this all pan out in the East Wales Championships on Saturday in Cardiff?

I woke early Saturday to get to the Cardiff track early enough to get parking and to register for the long jump, my first event at 11:00am. I warmed up and found I had some residual tendinitis still left in the right ankle, oh joy! Not being one for taking notice of my body's aches and pains, I began by checking the run up and discovered it had shortened by a meter, that did not bode well. However, the modified run up seemed to work, I opened with 4.23m supposedly the safe one, but I missed the plasticine by millimetres. I was at least consistent from then on, apart from 2 no jumps, everything was around 4.30m until the 6th and last round where I stretched it to 4.44m and claimed the silver in 2nd.
I had a couple of hours to recover before the vault, and time enough to seize up, especially my right ankle. When the time finally clicked round, I was worried it wouldn't loosen off, and to add insult to injury I tweaked my right bicep trying to use the 135 again. I decided to use the smaller 13 foot 120 pound pole which at least allowed me to vault. I came in at a low 2.40m, which I cleared easily, unfortunately the pole followed me though not wanting to be left behind alone. I got it just as easily on the second attempt but was unable to clear 2.60m despite clearing 3m in warm up - same old story. At least I won.

The empties after a good night celebrating

I went home happy to celebrate the silver and gold medals, and you know what that means, yep single malt time. This time I chose to attack my drinkable miniatures, starting with a 16 year old Jura, smooth and lightly peaty with a hint of cinnamon. The others slid down just as easily but failed to compete with the Jura. As I enjoyed my singles, I discovered that I held the East Wales Senior Men's Pole Vault Championship Best Performance, and had done so since 2011, so I finished the lot. The vault showed promise, lets see what happens then.

No, I'm not doing Madrid

The indoor season ended for me on the 11th March, not through injury as you might first think, but because I was naffing off on holiday to Mexico, the home of Tequila.  The trip coincided with the European Masters Indoor Championships in Madrid, which was originally my intended destination as I would have liked to "Do Madrid". However, that would have ended up with the wife performing surgery on me using a pair of rusty scissors, due to it being my wedding anniversary, and not just any anniversary, but my 30th. So sadly I wouldn't be "Doing Madrid", despite the dozens of my masters friends encouraging me to go.

Mayan temple complete with built in callendar

I was able to follow my friends escapades over the live feed that I occasionally got access to due to the hotel having a decent WiFi. So I especially enjoyed seeing my old mate Glyn Sutton doing the double in the 60m and 200m sprints in between me visiting a Mayan Temple. It was there that we learnt that the Mayan's had invented a game similar to Quiditch without the brooms, the winner of which was awarded the dubious honour of being sacrificed to the gods. A few candidates jumped to mind at this point, but I satisfied myself with just using Facebook to wish my friends well and toasting their numerous successes with various local Tequilas.

Ahh , yes! Tequila. During one of our many shopping trips, I was fortunate enough to visit a Tequila "museum". What the Mexicans class as a museum I would class more of a Tequila shop, though in their defence, they did explain how they make the hundreds of different versions of Tequila. They have also cottoned on to the technique of ageing their spirit in second fill oak casks, in the same way as my other passion, single malts are. It's quite clear that the Mexicans have no patience, as the oldest I could find was a mere seven year old. So in order to test the similarities or otherwise between Tequila and whisky, I made the sacrifice and volunteered manfully to do some market comparison using the bottle of 12 year old Strathisla that I had brought with me from the UK.

The imfamous 7 year old Tequila

It was hard work, and resulted in several hangovers that needed treatment involving lounging around pools drinking cocktails. I was eventually forced to have a break from this research as I also needed to complete some scuba diving in a sober state, apparently its quite dangerous to drink-dive.

We eventually had to return to reality, having spent our wedding anniversary watching the Caribbean sun rise to the clink of champagne flutes and the appropriate contents. We of course brought home several bottles of Tequila and the remnants of the single malt which was a challenge to our weight allowance - forced me to drink more of the whisky to get the cases under the limit, but we made it. A tough job but I had to do it.

Once back in the UK, I resolved to get back to fitness and targeted the World Masters Championships in September, specifically the decathlon. No pressure then, just 5 months to loose 1 stone and get fit and fast, baring in mind the winter of injuries. I had no doubt I would be re-acquainting myself with my friend the bear and his fridge.

My first session, a simple 4x200m speed endurance one, would surely be within my capability, especially as 35 seconds seemed ample allowance with 3 minutes recovery. I don't take too well to the track, usually ending up pulling one or more calf muscles, so I aimed to run on grass. Of course, this being Wales, grass means mud. Anyone tried sprinting on mud, cross country sprinting makes for entertaining running, add to that being chased  by dogs and you can guess what might happen. Well, I completed the first session in one piece, just, nearly did the splits twice, and managed to put a dog in the bushes. How did I put a dog in the bushes I hear you ask! Well its the usual story, I was on the second rep when this Dalmatian spots me running and despite cries from its owner, the dog heads straight for me full of fun. I saw him coming and worked out where the daft beggar was going to intercept me, near the bushes as it happened. So just as we came together, I kicked, dog went behind me, hit the mud and slid into said bushes. The owner was last seen pissing himself laughing while re-attaching the lead and leaving the field of play. Turned out to be the fastest rep in 32.

This was all well and good but after 4 weeks of mud, track and road (yes road!) I had no idea how fitness was going, speed certainly wasn't going anywhere, so the first outdoor match of the season should tell me much. That would be the Welsh Senior League in Cardiff on the 22nd April then. Watch this space.