Training for the Decathlon largely involved trying to sort out the jumps and the throws, although my fitness resembled that of a stack of Jenga blocks, the running could be said to be adequate, whereas the throws were nothing short of diabolical and the jumps poor apart from the vault.
So the weights were increased, and I visited my field more frequently with the various implements at my disposal, much to the amusement of the locals. Now, some of you will remember that the Nato summit came to sunny Newport towards the end of August, so we had been descended upon by half the police force in the UK and the US National Guard and numerous foreign Swat teams. To make thing worse, some chump called Barrack Obama decided to do some P.R. and visit one of those cute Welsh Schools, namely the one at Mount Pleasant, Rogerstone - the one adjacent to my field. So in preparation we had daily visits from the security forces, and in particular they started flying low helicopter missions to film the grass, the grass in my field I should add.
With about two days to go, I decided to do a Javelin session in the field at the same time as the US Marines were visiting our airspace, they spent about half an hour hovering low above me, filming me and my session as I threw (badly I should add) up and down the field. Eventually they got bored as they could see I'd never throw a 700g Javelin far enough to injure anyone except myself. I tried asking them for the footage but apparently they don't exist. Ah, yes, Barack came and went and nobody tried to spear him, especially as he was guarded by 50+ non-existent CIA and SWAT team members.
The week before the Decathlon, I 'tapered', as you do, concentrating on throwing. Unfortunately this can be a depressing in its own way. Tuesday was discus day, and things were progressing normally, meaning I was reaching about 25m, when the youngsters turned up and demonstrated exactly how it was supposed to be done. Lesson learnt - (don't throw with the U17 girls again). So Thursday was Shot putt day, and no U17's. Coach Rob was able to point out the problems with my "technique", apparently it's a nice glide but why do I stop at the front of the circle, look around, have a cuppa and then throw? Whatever I was doing, I improved from over 8.5m to just around 8.00m, so I kept at it for two hours and in the end gave second best to the kids once more. Looked like I would have to rely on my running and vaulting again.
I drove up Friday night which may have been a mistake, I got to the M5 via the M50 and joined the happy throng of Friday night queue dwellers just short of the Strensham services. After 20 minutes I gave up and went into the services for some hot chocolate and a sandwich. Unfortunately, half hour later I was able to rejoin the queue attempting to get past Worcester and finally reached the stadium just before 9pm to drop off my poles, having thought twice about taking them to the hotel. I got a incredulous look as it was when I walked into the hotel reception with my javelin. I was thankful just to get to bed.
Saturday dawned in a miserable sort of way, but at least the wind was on holiday, but that put paid to a decent time in the 100m. I managed to arrive at the stadium without visiting the allotments this time early enough to register, chat, warm up, get wet, chat again, and finally get ready for the day's competition. Something was going round, 12 had entered but only 8 started, with Ian Cowell confessing he was unable to complete day 2 due to daughter taxi duties to university, been there!
The 100m started in a miserable downpour, two heats and I was in heat 2 so plenty of time to soak up the atmosphere. I nailed the start and lead for about 60m before favourite Derek Glasgow edged past taking Andy Smerdon with him although I only found out who went past at the finish due to poor driving conditions. I clocked a disappointing 13.4, 3rd fastest. Sadly, Peter Ley had to withdraw after suffering an injury - the lurgy strikes again.
I went to the long jump hoping that I could crack 4.80 which would set me in good stead for day 1. I marked out my troublesome run up and ran through and as predicted, missed the board by an inch. So I had to do it again, only this time as I lit the afterburner it blew out and my left Achilles exploded. I haven't felt pain like that since, er, oh yes, May. . . . .
That was it then, I tried to jump, but it was well and truly blown, so I retired somewhat devastated after only two events, and left the remaining 6 do battle without me. Now wet through, hurting like sh*t, the rain having stopped, all I could do was watch my friends carry on. Mark Crompton provided some entertainment later that afternoon in the high jump, when he head butted the upright and decorated the track with blood, but I didn't cheer up much, so I left fairly sharply after the 400m to get my poles and go home. That was when I found the staff had locked up early and gone home, leaving me to make myself popular with the Stadium Manager when I had to ask him to open up to retrieve said poles.
That brought down the curtain with a sickening thud on the season, a quick visit to my physio revealed the tendon to be torn, so a long rest has been earned the hard way. See you next year then.
The week before the Decathlon, I 'tapered', as you do, concentrating on throwing. Unfortunately this can be a depressing in its own way. Tuesday was discus day, and things were progressing normally, meaning I was reaching about 25m, when the youngsters turned up and demonstrated exactly how it was supposed to be done. Lesson learnt - (don't throw with the U17 girls again). So Thursday was Shot putt day, and no U17's. Coach Rob was able to point out the problems with my "technique", apparently it's a nice glide but why do I stop at the front of the circle, look around, have a cuppa and then throw? Whatever I was doing, I improved from over 8.5m to just around 8.00m, so I kept at it for two hours and in the end gave second best to the kids once more. Looked like I would have to rely on my running and vaulting again.
I drove up Friday night which may have been a mistake, I got to the M5 via the M50 and joined the happy throng of Friday night queue dwellers just short of the Strensham services. After 20 minutes I gave up and went into the services for some hot chocolate and a sandwich. Unfortunately, half hour later I was able to rejoin the queue attempting to get past Worcester and finally reached the stadium just before 9pm to drop off my poles, having thought twice about taking them to the hotel. I got a incredulous look as it was when I walked into the hotel reception with my javelin. I was thankful just to get to bed.
Saturday dawned in a miserable sort of way, but at least the wind was on holiday, but that put paid to a decent time in the 100m. I managed to arrive at the stadium without visiting the allotments this time early enough to register, chat, warm up, get wet, chat again, and finally get ready for the day's competition. Something was going round, 12 had entered but only 8 started, with Ian Cowell confessing he was unable to complete day 2 due to daughter taxi duties to university, been there!
The 100m started in a miserable downpour, two heats and I was in heat 2 so plenty of time to soak up the atmosphere. I nailed the start and lead for about 60m before favourite Derek Glasgow edged past taking Andy Smerdon with him although I only found out who went past at the finish due to poor driving conditions. I clocked a disappointing 13.4, 3rd fastest. Sadly, Peter Ley had to withdraw after suffering an injury - the lurgy strikes again.
I went to the long jump hoping that I could crack 4.80 which would set me in good stead for day 1. I marked out my troublesome run up and ran through and as predicted, missed the board by an inch. So I had to do it again, only this time as I lit the afterburner it blew out and my left Achilles exploded. I haven't felt pain like that since, er, oh yes, May. . . . .
That was it then, I tried to jump, but it was well and truly blown, so I retired somewhat devastated after only two events, and left the remaining 6 do battle without me. Now wet through, hurting like sh*t, the rain having stopped, all I could do was watch my friends carry on. Mark Crompton provided some entertainment later that afternoon in the high jump, when he head butted the upright and decorated the track with blood, but I didn't cheer up much, so I left fairly sharply after the 400m to get my poles and go home. That was when I found the staff had locked up early and gone home, leaving me to make myself popular with the Stadium Manager when I had to ask him to open up to retrieve said poles.
That brought down the curtain with a sickening thud on the season, a quick visit to my physio revealed the tendon to be torn, so a long rest has been earned the hard way. See you next year then.
