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.
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.
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.
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.
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| What came next was too distressing to be shown |
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.
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| The empties after a good night celebrating |
