After making a slow recovery from the last injury, I was determined to avoid nausing up the next championships, so I started with a secret park run with the wife. She, of course, was focused on breaking her best time for circumnavigating Tredegar House, and I quickly found myself having to run harder than anticipated just to avoid being embarrassed by the specticle of my Wife running away from me. I spent the afternoon recuperating by weeding, cutting the grass and the hedge. Sometimes I wonder if I understand recoveries, because I then spent a relaxing evening consuming my whisky collection. I decided to compare and contrast three regions from Scotland, namely Speyside, Highlands and of course Islay.
Bowmore was up first - the Original 12 year old to be precise. The first shot was warming and full of peaty butterscotch and toffee with a hint of seaweed, though I've never actually eaten sea weed and I'm quit sure they don't dip any in the casks. The finish was long and smooth leaving me remembering the white washed walls of the distillery nestled adjacent to the small harbour in Islay's capital. The second shot was smoother on the palette and full of malty sweet butterscotch with strong peaty flavours and that seaweed dropping in again at the end.
I followed that with a trip to Speyside and a double Glenlivet, carefully opening it so as not to break the cork. The smokey smoothness of the 12 year old slid down so easily leaving a citrus finish full of lemon. Between the two, a tough choice, so perhaps an independent moderator would help, so I opened the Oban again and found the measure getting more generous. This was probably due to the number of alcohol units consumed. Now I believe 1 unit is a single 25ml measure of whisky at 40%ABV, so that all holds true for The Bowmore, and the Glenlivet, but the Oban's slightly stronger so now I had 6 units plus 2.15 from the Oban (Divide Oban by one unit 43/40=1.075 and I had 2). Unfortunately, as I put the Oban away, the Penderyn somehow found its way out and that's 46%ABV, giving a mathematical 10.45 units and 1.5 hangovers.
Training resumed a couple of days later with some 200s at what I decided to be at three quarter pace and on grass. The time was calculated based on my as PB time as 100%, therefore, turning to mathematics once again, 25% of my PB of 25.6 is 6.4, sooooo three quarter pace = 25.6 + 6.4 = 32. So having now gained my GCSE in maths I set about putting theory into practise. Sadly all I proved was that I am not within the same continent as my PB so theory can go get stuffed, at least I didn't get injured.
The very next day was the Welsh Masters League in Brecon, I planned to do the vault and hopefully a long jump, avoiding the 200m for health reasons. As I drove up through the Beacons National Park, I found I was looking forward to competing with my fellow Newport Harrier Masters, some of whom I had competed abroad with. Happy memories drifted away as did the rain lurking threateningly in the lea of imfamous Pen Y Fan mountain, and I arrived full of expectations at a sunny Penlan track, Brecon. The vault was first, so we decided that we'd delay the start to allow Derek Osbourn to do the discus as is his way, thus allowing me to try to rebuild the run up. Despite this, I failed, no heighted, and found the wet spot on the bed every time. Soaked on a dry day! Moving on to the long jump, I predictably had run up issues once again, I must be using someone else's legs or something. Round 1 was a No Jump, so round 2 I backed off too much and did 3.99m off the wrong leg after some intricate tap dancing on the runway. Round 3 and I really went for it and landed somewhere around 4.50m, unfortunately I had brought most of the plasticine with me so I went home sad, wet and sandy. Any guesses how the night ended?
Typically, I just sobered up and got stuck into some more training in the hope I could turn things around in time for the Welsh Masters Championships. Before that I had a chance to compete in the Welsh Senior League, strangely in Brecon once again, where the vault and the long jump were available once again. The day started well with the rain clearing off across the channel back to England for once, apart from a few rather familiar looking clouds skulking around good old Pen Y Fan. Anyway, I checked in and headed off to the vault full of trepidation, but with a better run up in hand. Warm up went badly after we had attempted to empty the water off the bed again, one wet foot, one soaked butt and no idea what was going wrong. Predictably, I no heighted at 2.50m as I had done the previous week, but the running was less paraplegic than before. This bade well for the long jump that followed, though I was not confident and was thinking that 1.274 units of single malt would probably help right now. Here we go then, I took things easy on round one and was rewarded with 4.24m, a seasons best but still hopelessly below where I dreamed I had landed. I reverted to type in the second round, spraying green plasticine in all directions, though I noticed the landing was flat, probably due to the increase in weight with all the green crap stuck to my left foot. I don't want to talk about round three, needless to say it involved use of the right foot and a complete absence of lift. More through desperation than anything else, I tweaked the run up, sacrificed a chicken, chanted the long jumper's prayer and let rip, miraculously hitting the board correctly I skimmed the sand and splashed down Soyuz style at 4.37m. That'll do for now, time to head home where both the Oban and the Penderyn came to a predictable but enjoyable end.
The very next day was the Welsh Masters League in Brecon, I planned to do the vault and hopefully a long jump, avoiding the 200m for health reasons. As I drove up through the Beacons National Park, I found I was looking forward to competing with my fellow Newport Harrier Masters, some of whom I had competed abroad with. Happy memories drifted away as did the rain lurking threateningly in the lea of imfamous Pen Y Fan mountain, and I arrived full of expectations at a sunny Penlan track, Brecon. The vault was first, so we decided that we'd delay the start to allow Derek Osbourn to do the discus as is his way, thus allowing me to try to rebuild the run up. Despite this, I failed, no heighted, and found the wet spot on the bed every time. Soaked on a dry day! Moving on to the long jump, I predictably had run up issues once again, I must be using someone else's legs or something. Round 1 was a No Jump, so round 2 I backed off too much and did 3.99m off the wrong leg after some intricate tap dancing on the runway. Round 3 and I really went for it and landed somewhere around 4.50m, unfortunately I had brought most of the plasticine with me so I went home sad, wet and sandy. Any guesses how the night ended?
Typically, I just sobered up and got stuck into some more training in the hope I could turn things around in time for the Welsh Masters Championships. Before that I had a chance to compete in the Welsh Senior League, strangely in Brecon once again, where the vault and the long jump were available once again. The day started well with the rain clearing off across the channel back to England for once, apart from a few rather familiar looking clouds skulking around good old Pen Y Fan. Anyway, I checked in and headed off to the vault full of trepidation, but with a better run up in hand. Warm up went badly after we had attempted to empty the water off the bed again, one wet foot, one soaked butt and no idea what was going wrong. Predictably, I no heighted at 2.50m as I had done the previous week, but the running was less paraplegic than before. This bade well for the long jump that followed, though I was not confident and was thinking that 1.274 units of single malt would probably help right now. Here we go then, I took things easy on round one and was rewarded with 4.24m, a seasons best but still hopelessly below where I dreamed I had landed. I reverted to type in the second round, spraying green plasticine in all directions, though I noticed the landing was flat, probably due to the increase in weight with all the green crap stuck to my left foot. I don't want to talk about round three, needless to say it involved use of the right foot and a complete absence of lift. More through desperation than anything else, I tweaked the run up, sacrificed a chicken, chanted the long jumper's prayer and let rip, miraculously hitting the board correctly I skimmed the sand and splashed down Soyuz style at 4.37m. That'll do for now, time to head home where both the Oban and the Penderyn came to a predictable but enjoyable end.
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