Inspired by: Those who didn't

Another train journey, another blog. This time I'd like to talk about those who didn't. Initially I was going to write about those who couldn't, but then i figured, seeing as we all can it would be about those who chose to do. "What is she waffling on about?" I hear you ask. My friends and work colleagues who chose not to be active for a long time, and then decided to change that. These are the people who inspire me the most on a daily basis.

It may be controversial saying that people choose to be sedentary - I know there is a much deeper psychological reason why some people choose not to do physical activity, but it's still a choice. I've previously blogged about Katherine, who went from doing absolutely zero exercise to running 5K. Well now she's decided to take on the big 10K. Katherine is amazing but still has bouts of "I can't", even though she proves on a regular basis that, in fact, she can. Can't wait for her to complete that 10K!

 

STEVE

Another recent addition to the exercise team is Steve Hunter. He read my blog about Katherine and decided that it was time for him to get active. Here's what he has to say about his journey, which started with the Couch to 5K and has recently taken him to ride his first ever 100-mile sportive and run 10K in under an hour. Phenomenal!

"The trigger point was needing new trousers and realising that I needed a 38 inch waist. I didn't buy new trousers, I bought a pair of shorts and some trainers. I was generally unfit, and never had any energy, too many years of smoking and drinking. I hadn't done any exercise at all for 15 years. I don't smoke any more, I gave up about 6 years ago properly but relapsed occasionally while working away from home, now it would be silly as I need all the oxygen I can squeeze into my lungs when running. I drink a lot less, part of the trying to lose weight bit, and I don't need to as I generally feel more relaxed and less stressed. I have much more energy generally now, and more motivation to do stuff, even if that is the decorating that Julie has been nagging me to do for years.

I started off running, but shin splints soon became a problem even sticking to the C25K, so I needed another plan so dug my old bike out of the back of the spider infested shed. A full suspension MTB on flat Essex roads wasn't the best fit, although it would have coped with the pot holes better, so being based in a hotel next to Sigma Sport in Kingston the temptation for a nice shiny bike was too much. Bike bought and many laps of Richmond Park followed after work, feeling very inadequate as everyone, and I mean everyone, was going quicker than me.

Obviously the answer to my slowness was to upgrade bits of the bike.

I went back to running gradually as my general fitness improved and although the shin splints have crept back a couple of times, with some rest I have kept them under control. Next target, 10k in under an hour. Cycling is going great, getting quicker, that's down to more upgrades obviously...

I only considered giving up in the first week; after my first run I really didn't believe I would ever be able to run 5K, it seemed an impossible ask. Logging everything on Strava really helped me, I could see the improvements really happening. If it wasn't for Strava, or similar, I think I would have given up.

My reason (excuse) for not being active were that I didn't have time. I seem to have found time, I just watch less rubbish on telly.

It's definitely been worth it, even though it has cost a fortune in bikes and stuff. For me exercising is more about me time, time to escape from life for a bit and just enjoy myself, if you can enjoy running. I feel better, not just because my body works better and is a better shape, but my head feels better too, it's like nature's own happy pill. I most enjoy being out on the bike on a cold Sunday morning in winter when there is no one else about.

Oh, and I need new trousers, all mine are too big for me as I am down to a 32 inch waist."

RACHAEL

Another story I'd like to share with you is that of Rachael Brooke's. Rachael is a good friend of mine who, as a child, was in a horrific car accident that left her missing a large chunk of muscle off one of her legs just above the knee. As a result, she hasn't really done that much exercise and was worried that doing any would cause problems. After quite some pestering by me, Rachael agreed to give it a try and embarked on the Couch to 5K running plan.

A gentle, structured, running plan like this one is excellent for building stamina and strength gradually, and it builds confidence as with each session you see you're getting better. Although Rachael did experience some pain initially, she kept going and now runs 5K (and more!) on a regular basis. I'm hoping she'll sign up for a 10K sometime soon... (And no photo of Rachael running yet)

NAOMI

Naomi Mills (nee McKay) - chiropractor extraordinaire and soon-to-be mother - was overweight when I met her - by how much I'm not really sure. She loved to drink and eat and enjoy life. But it turns out that she didn't feel she was enjoying life as much as she thought she was. When we met in 2011 at a business networking social do, we hit it off straight away and started hanging out on a regular basis. When I asked her if she wanted to climb Kilimanjaro with me she agreed and in August 2012 we scaled Africa's highest peak. Naomi's mum, Moira, had sadly passed away just a couple of months earlier and maybe it was a combination of that and achieving a huge task like climbing a mountain that resulted in Naomi's decision to lose weight.

As it turns out, when Naomi decides to do something, it gets done. She joined Slimming World and stuck to it 100%. She became slimmer of the week/month/year (or something - I lost track after a while) and the weight just dropped her. Simultaneously she spent time in the gym, lifting weights and doing cardio, getting fitter and fitter. She posted a video of her squatting with a 120 kg weight! When I invited her round for dinner and promised to cook something healthy, she turned up with her own salad and said "no offence" - none taken!

Naomi has also taken huge steps in other areas of her life. She quit working as a chiropractor for someone else and started her own practice. She has won multiple awards for her marketing company aimed at chiropractors, and she has gotten married and is now pregnant. I'm not saying that all this is to do with her weight loss and feeling better about herself but she once said to me; "if I can lose 4 and a half stone in 8 months then I can achieve anything." She wasn't wrong.

AGGELIKI

One of the most common things I hear when I suggest someone start running is "I'll die!". Although this is quite clearly an exaggeration, it does give an indication of the fear of trying to do this seemingly impossible task. So many of us think about how out of breath we are when running for the bus, and then apply this feeling to 'going for a run'. Thank goodness it's nothing like that, because I feel knackered running for the bus and I can swim, cycle and run for 14 hours straight!

Aggeliki was one of those "I'll die" people. She liked the thought of being able to run and her physique suggested she'd be good at it - she already looked like a runner - but she was unfit and scared of being out on her own in the cold English countryside (she had recently moved over from Greece). As is true of so many, if not all, of those starting the Couch to 5K, Aggeliki didn't die. In fact, after a slow start she made it through the C25K and recently completed a 10K. She has hinted that she might give the Half Marathon a go next year! And all this while also looking after her toddler and holding down a full time job.

 

LISA

I work with Lisa Gapp's husband, Mat, and I've often spoken to Lisa about my ridiculous triathlon antics, which she typically responds "I could never do that" to. Both Mat and Lisa are cyclists, they've both done the Nottingham Cycle Live 100-miler, so is one is not a case of "didn't". What inspires me about Lisa is her attitude to running, which she started this year. Here is what she has to say about her fitness journey:

"As you know I did the Couch to 5k as I wanted to get fit and lose weight. I really, really enjoyed it and through support and encouragement I aimed to do Parkrun. I also did a 5k muddy run which was great fun. I loved the buzz I got from running and also liked to swim & cycle. The East Leake triathlon seemed the obvious choice to push myself to train and work towards an achievable goal. I've become quite competitive with myself and loved beating my previous times until I stupidly walked into a door frame and broke my toe. Running is still off the cards and that is really annoying me but it has helped me get out on my bike more. I'm not sure how I'll do at the triathlon but my aim is to complete it and hopefully have fun too!"

Lisa has gone from no running to a sub-29-min 5K in less than 5 months, and she loves it! I'm pretty sure she'll love triathlon just as much.

----------------------------------

There are many others who inspire me, and I will get to those in future blogs, as the numbers are ever increasing! Until then, get active!

 

 

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Tribute to Billie

On the 18th of June, 1938, Billie Fleming set off from Newark in Nottinghamshire and cycled 108.5 miles to Northampton. She visited the towns of Bingham, Grantham, Stamford and Kettering before finally finishing in Northampton. As a tribute as part of Anne Hunt's year-long Tribute to Billie (www.tributetobillie.co.uk) I cycled to the same towns on the same day 77 years later.

My journey didn't start in Newark but from home in Nottingham. I set off early to try to avoid the rush hour traffic through the centre and cycled through Radcliffe before getting to Bingham an hour into the ride. I wanted to have a record of the ride so decided to get a picture of me with each of the town signs I was passing. I suspect Billie didn't do this, so she wouldn't have been worried about getting the whole sign into a selfie... After a few minutes of struggling, a lady walked past who took my picture.

Riding through Bingham I pondered over what it may have looked like when Billie rode - I don't even know if we took the same routes - I guess we must have, in parts at least. One thing is certainly for sure; there would've been a lot fewer cars in the roads in those days. In 1938, the population of Bingham was approx. 1650. Current population stands at around 9000.
It was highly likely that Billie and I travelled the same road between Bingham and Grantham - the A52. I suspect that in 1938 the roads were a lot quieter than during rush hour in modern times, as well as being in black and white of course. Luckily the road is really wide making it a lot safer than some quieter, narrower roads where people take risks overtaking.Grantham is a lot smaller than I remember it being from travelling through before, but I still spent a good 5 minutes waiting at one set of traffic lights. Exiting Grantham I took country lanes down to Stamford - most definitely my favourite part of the ride - gorgeous scenery, gorgeous roads and minimal traffic. There's a good chance Billie would've taken the Great North Road (A1) - what that looked like those days can be seen here: http://youtu.be/Pm_Q7X_-2Ck No chance of finding me on the A1 though - I rather value my life!

Once I got to Stamford - about 4 hours into the ride - things started getting quite tough. Up to that point I'd had the wind behind me and it had been relatively flat. Now the route turned to gain a crosswind and it started getting rather undulating. At this point I came across a petrol station near the village of Morcott. I went in to ask if they had a USB socket I could charge my phone on while I had lunch and the nice chap who worked there directed me to the car workshop alongside the petrol station. Once I explained what a USB socket was to the receptionist and Mavis, who was having her car tyres checked, I managed to get a bit of electricity out of them while I snacked on my goat's cheese and chutney wraps. I'm pretty certain Billie did none of these things outside of Morcott.

Mavis came out and we talked in length about my upcoming challenge, riding around Rutland Water, and the fact that Mavis' daughter and her family live round the corner from me in Wollaton. I do believe that Mavis would've talked all day if I'd let her. As tempting as it was I had rather a few miles to go so I had to tear myself from Mavis and the other friends I'd made in the 45 mins I rested up.
As I mentioned, it had started getting tough, and the distance between Stamford and Kettering felt like an absolute eternity. The saddle was starting to get uncomfortable, the wind was picking up and the hills were plentiful. At least it wasn't raining. Coming into Kettering I met a Motorway Maintenance man who was watching something on his iPad ("just passing the time") but he assisted me in getting my bike over a gate and didn't seem to mind the little bit of snot that I discovered was protruding out of my right nostril.

Up to this point I hadn't had too many difficulties getting pictures of me next to town signs thanks to some passing pedestrians, but the Kettering town sign did not want to play ball. A number of failed attempts later and I manage to get a miserable looking me next to a sign for a town called Ketter. A few seconds later a pedestrian saved the day.

Moving on... My backside hurts, my shoulders hurt, my legs hurt, but at least Northampton is nearby, which meant dropping in on Smith's Farm Shop.

The Smiths are friends of mine; we got to know each other in 2012 when we scaled Kilimanjaro together. They were on their honeymoon... Now they have a toddler named Brody and another one on the way. The farm shop is definitely worth a visit; had I not had another 3 hours to cycle I would've left with half the shop! At the shop they also have a pig of a variety I've never heard of, nor can I remember, and they had some goats, one of which was thoroughly cleaned by the tongue of Pippin, the Wirehaired Fox Terrier.

After a well-earned break that was somewhat longer than I anticipated, I set off on my journey back toward home - I'd roped my dear mother to pick me up from Leicester. This was where I bid farewell to Billie, and to the route I had planned. I had a lovely flat-ish route via Market Harborough but turns out it was along the Lee Valley Trail, which was unlikely to have been suitable for my road bike. Instead I opted for the straightest route via the A4115 (or something), which was lovely and hilly and had a gorgeous headwind - just what I needed for the last couple of hours riding... Just to give you an idea of how my ride just got hillier and hillier the longer it went on, here's my elevation graph from Strava:

At least there was a downhill at the end...
This is the furthest I've ever cycled in one go (121 miles), and it was really bloody tough. People have since pointed out the obvious - this is the kind of thing I'll be doing every day next year. Doesn't that scare me? In a word - no. It's fair to say that I wouldn't be able to do this every day as it stands, because I haven't trained for it, but I am 6 months out and there's plenty of life in these little legs yet! Having done this ride only 4 days after Velothon Wales I'm even more confident that I'll be ready to take on the challenge, come 1 Jan!
This ride taught me a great deal:

• Billie Fleming was awesome
• Always plan your route to take in hills and headwinds first, not the other way around
• Check your route isn't meant for mountain bikes
• Look into getting a new saddle
• Keep eating, even though you really don't want to - take a variety of food
• Villages with funny names like Bitchfield are worth cycling through
• Get a selfie stick or bring your own pedestrian on every ride
• A 9.5-hour ride takes 12 hours if you keep stopping to take pictures

I'd like to thank Anne Hunt, who organises Tribute to Billie, for her support and for making people aware of this great cyclist. Read more about it at www.tributetobillie.co.uk

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Inspired by: Hilary McDermott

The next addition to my 'Inspired By' series is my friend Hilary. We met in 2009 at Chalfield Dog Training Club where I returned to teach classes after having worked abroad for a while. Hilary was there with one of her three Cairn Terriers and we hit it off straight away. Hil is one of the most positive, kind and welcoming people I've ever met, and we had a lot in common - training dogs and drinking wine, to name but a couple. One thing we did not have in common was cycling - I didn't even own a bike.

Our friendship grew over the years, through walking dogs together, and drinking wine. We put the world to rights on many occasions, as friends so often do.

Me and Hilary

One day in summer 2011, I was out walking dogs along a canal towpath when I received a telephone call from Hilary.

"Do you want to climb a mountain with me?", she asked.
"Which one?", I asked.
"Kilimanjaro."
"Sure."

I managed to rope my new friend Naomi in as well, and after a year of training and charity fundraising (one of the most soul-destroying things I've ever done), we headed to climb Kilimanjaro in August 2012. You can read more about that in a previous blog. Once we came off the mountain, there was a void in my life - I no longer had a goal to strive for. Hilary suggested I try triathlon, as she was taking part in sprint distance triathlons herself, and I said "OK". The thing with Hilary is, that she has an amazing way of making you feel as though you can achieve anything, and she helps and encourages you every step of the way.

When I first got my road bike, I was terrified of it. Hilary, having done London to Paris and later did Land's End to John O'Groats, came with me out and gave me tips on how to ride it, when to change gear, etc. etc. and we've had some brilliant long, and short, rides together. When I started taking my training to the next level, Hilary was always a source of encouragement, and she really made me believe in myself. We completed the Outlaw Full triathlon as a team with our friend Nicky, where Hilary did the bike leg, and we've competed in sprint triathlons together. We were signed up for the Outlaw again in 2015.

In March 2015, she took part (as usual) in the East Leake sprint tri, and finished 15 mins slower than her previous time. Weather conditions were horrendous, and everyone was suffering, but Hilary was in another world of pain. She'd had problems with her back and a trapped nerve, so she went to the doctor to announce she wanted the operation they'd previously talked about. Two days later she's informed she needs a full hysterectomy because they found a lump on one of her ovaries. When she called me to tell me, her first words were "I'm really sorry, but I can't do the Outlaw this year". As if anyone cared about that...

In true Hilary-style though, once getting over the shock, she sees the situation as an opportunity.

"I won't be allowed to drink alcohol for 6 months, and have to be as healthy as possible, so I'm going to get as fit as I possibly can. I'm relying on you to help me."

Hilary, it'll be my honour.

Me, Hilary and Nicky - Outlaw 2014

Oh, dem hills!!

Beginners fear them, seasoned pros hunt them. Whether you’re one or the other, or somewhere in between, you can’t avoid them for too long… hills. We’re talking both running and cycling; hills are there to be conquered. We can’t be afraid of them, we must embrace them!

When I go running, or cycling, I pretty much live in the moment; I don’t worry about what’s to come because it doesn’t achieve anything. Actually, I’m pretty much like that about most things in life. Think about what might happen and plan for it, but don’t worry about it. Taking on a hill – what’s the worst that could happen? You have to walk. Boohoo. Big deal. You’ll still get to the top, right? I’m not saying that this is the right way to be, but life has been less stressful since I got this way.

So what is it about hills that scare us so much? Is it failing to reach the top at our chosen sport? If you don’t run all the way to the top, you’ve failed? Or if you don’t cycle all the way to the top, you’ve failed? Or is it that you’re afraid that your lungs will pop out of your nostrils (as apparently happens on Nostril Hill in the Peak District, according to my friend Jane – I believe the name is made up, but check on Google maps just in case) or that your heart will beat out of your chest?

Are any of these reasons, reason enough not to make an attempt?

What will you lose if you don’t run or ride to the top? Your dignity? Your life?! I can tell you now – none of the above (unless you’re really unlucky and your time happens to have come during you hill climb, but that’ll just be coincidence). Your greatest loss of dignity will come from the decision not to have a go. For just that, you should be ashamed. Yeah, it’ll hurt, your calves or thighs might start screaming, but you just have to scream louder! You keep going until you absolutely, definitely can’t go any further!! And even then, go a bit further!!

What will you gain, even if you don’t run or ride to the top? Kudos. Bigger lungs. Stronger legs. Stronger arms. Stronger heart. Stronger mind. And, often, a view to die for.

Recently I was riding in the Peak District, and part of the route was going up Winnats Pass. Any road that has the word ‘Pass’ in it, is bound to be steep, and this is certainly no exception. I slogged it out for as long as I possibly could – my heart was pounding all the way up into my brain, and eventually I just couldn’t do it any longer, so I had to get off and walk. Which, in cleats, is nearly as hard work as cycling! Did I fail? Not in my mind, because I achieved as much as I physically could, and I refuse to believe there is failure in that. Do I wish I’d made it to the top (where Jane and Ju were waiting for me – damn them and their strong legs and extra gears!)? Of course I do. But maybe next time I will. Or the time after that. Or the time after that (when I have more gears and/or stronger legs).

Winnats Pass

The only failure comes when you give up. And only you know if you’re giving up, or you really can’t push any more. And if you reach the point where you really can’t push any more, you’ve given it your all? Then you’ve progressed. Trust me on that one.

Once you get over you fear of hills, you will embrace them.

As a runner up a steep hill, you can really drive your arms, there’s power in your stride (there has to be, just to get up the thing!) and there’s euphoria when you get to the top. And if you’re really hard-core, you run back down and do it again…

As a cyclist, it’s you and your steed against the mountain. Who will win this time? If the mountain wins, you say, respectfully “next time, old pal”. If you and your steed win, you say “IN YOUR FACE, MOUNTAIN!! IN YOUR FACE!!!”. As loud as you can.

Ok, so this is portraying every hill as if you’re in the Alps. What about those crappy little hills? The ones you can’t really tell are there, they just slow you down a bit and you can’t really figure out why? IN YOUR FACE, STUPID LITTLE HILLS! Use them for strength, build on your speed every time you go up them, trying to beat your PR each time. Remember, you’re never racing anyone but yourself!

Want some real-life examples of people conquering hills?

I give you my friend Nicky – the first ‘proper’ hill we got to during a bike ride together resulted in Nicky nearly falling off and having to walk up the hill. She hated them and feared that happening again. As a friend, maybe I should’ve just suggested we bypass the hills and gone for flatter routes during subsequent rides, but I’m a fan of the tough love and was having none of it. I’m not suggesting that it was me that cured Nicky of her hill fears, but she had to face them, and did so with gusto! She got on her bike, pointed it in the direction of a hill, and gave it all she had. And guess what? She made it up, time and again. Will she never be beaten by a hill again? Doubtful. But it’s gonna take a hell of a hill to do it!

I also give you my friend Katherine – you know how I love to blog about Katherine! She would ONLY run a flat route, despite my efforts to persuade her otherwise, until one day she went a different route with ‘hills’ in it. These were not hills, they were mere mounds of earth. Nope, Katherine had to run a proper hill, so I took her up the most brutal hill I could find within a 2-mile radius of my house. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” She could, and she did. Did she feel like she was going to die at the top? Yes, probably, but she didn’t die, and she felt smug as a smug thing when we were done.

What about hills that go in the opposite direction? You know, downhill? If you’re a runner, trust your shoes. If you’re a cyclist, ask someone else because I’m the biggest downhill wuss there is on a bicycle! It’s a fear of death. Not from some unrealistic ‘too much like hard work’ scenario, but from an actual ‘I could hit a pothole at this speed and die’ type of scenario. But I’m working on it. I do wear a helmet, after all.

Inspired by: Gerald and the mountain

In a new series of blogs, I am going to name some people and events that have help point my life in the direction it's currently going in.

The first in this series in Gerald. I don't know what Gerald's surname is; all I know is that he once told me to never give up. In fact, I think he sang a song about it, but it was in Swahili so I didn't understand it.

In 2012, I conquered Kilimanjaro as part of a big group led by my friend Hilary (more on her in another post). We were raising money for a charity called Practical Action, an extremely worthy cause, and figured that the challenge itself was big, but so many people did it each year so how could we fail?!

Nobody really knows how altitude will affect them. Some people took tablets to prevent altitude sickness - I wanted to know exactly how my body would react. And it was a lot tougher than I'd imagined. We were encouraged by our main guide - Isaac - to walk very slowly, which seemed a little frustrating at first, but looking back, it was a good job we did. The guides that carried the tents, food, equipment and toilet (!) steamed ahead, 30 kg on their heads, like it was nothing. Isaac continually reminded us that these guys were used to it.

Around day 3 of a 5 day climb, I started developing vertigo (specifically Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo - BPPV - google it if you want to know more), which resulted in me not being able to move my head much at all and, if I did, the world would start spinning like I've never experienced before. By the time summit night came round, it was absolutely horrendous. As the weakest link in the group at that point, I was at the front of the line when we started our summit ascent at 11pm. It was freezing cold and pitch black, other than our headlamps, and I was wearing many layers. It's not like we were going to be running anywhere.

The ascent began and within 15 mins I started hyperventilating and couldn't go on. I know now that it was because of the thin air, the BPPV, and wearing so many clothes. I was left behind with a guide - Gerald. He made me remove some layers then, before I got too cold, he grabbed my arm and started dragging me up the mountain. I don't know how long he had hold of my arm up that mountain, I was just looking at the back of his feet with every step he took. I couldn't look up, because the vertigo would kick in, so my lasting memory of summit night is the back of Gerald's boots. On occasion, I would look up and see lights. In my head, I was in the alps and the lights were lanterns hanging on the porches of chalets. It was very comforting. The truth, of course, was that they were other climbing groups.

During our steady ascent up the mountain, Gerald would sing songs in Swahili, only one of which I knew:

Jambo, jambo bwana
Habari gani, mzuri sana
Wageni, mwakaribishwa,
Kilimanjaro, hakuna matata

I whispered this every time he sang it, and it was so comforting. Gerald would sometimes mix it up and sing a slightly different version, with the 'hakuna matata' at the end in a different tone. It still sits with me. But overriding that was every time we stopped, he would tell me "never give up". I would reply "I will never, ever give up", and so it carried on for the entire night.

We got a good rhythm going, Gerald and I, and we caught up and even overtook most of the rest of the group. I got a cheer when we reached them, and I so wished I could've reciprocated, but I was fighting my own demons. Turns out others were too. My friend Hilary was seeing black rabbits and puking behind rocks; Derek was falling asleep as he walked, and various group members were randomly asleep along the trail, none without a guide to ensure their safety.

To reach the summit took until 8.30am and I honestly couldn't wait to get off that mountain. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, mentally speaking (and probably physically as I lost about half a stone in those few days) and I don't think that I would've done it without Gerald. He was so patient, so kind, so encouraging, so inspiring. I know he may never know his impact on my life, but I have a tattoo on the side of my foot in honour of him. It says "usikate tamaa". It means 'never give up' in Swahili. Or at least I hope it does!

Bloating bread, ham and cheese, and Madrid

I'm currently sitting in a restaurant in London. It's the restaurant next to one of Gordon Ramsey's so I'm channeling his attitude this evening. You know, the attitude he has when he's sitting on his own in a restaurant wondering what on earth he's doing there. Because I'm feeling a bit lost today. This is very unusual for me as I am, more often than not, happy to be somewhere different than sitting in my office and staring at my screens. But this week I've been unable to train properly and I've been eating crap because it has been readily available. Of course I could resist temptation and go for the healthy option, but there were ham and cheese sandwiches/wraps/baguettes everywhere!!

When I say 'everywhere', I mean in Madrid. At the office of the bank headquarters that I'm visiting with work. At the airport that I had to go through to get to my destination. And the bread!! There's bread everywhere!! And at the hotel breakfast there were croissants, and I couldn't just have one! I had to have two! With jam! And there was fruit. And iberico ham. And it all just threw itself into my mouth!

I did go running after work around Las Tablas, the area of Madrid where the hotel was. I was being chased by a storm cloud, and I was secretly hoping it would catch up with me and give me a proper soaking, as if some kind of punishment for the lead weight (of bread) that was bouncing around in my digestive system. And it did! Well, it caught up with me, and then dribbled a little bit of H2O on me and disappeared. Most disappointing. 

After my run I decided to go to the gym so got the key from the Holiday Inn reception and headed into the basement to use the gym facilities. Yeah... That is the crappiest, most soul-destroying gym I have ever been in. My schedule said to do lunges with 2 x 12kg weights. I could put together 15kg at most. I decided to scrap the weights session as a bad job and headed to my room to get ready to meet my colleague for dinner. 

We headed in to central Madrid, which took an eternity because some selfish drivers decided to get into an accident. I had asked the taxi driver, in my best Spanish (mantequilla! mantequilla!), to take us into central Madrid, and he pointed out sights along the way and explained a bit about them (in Spanish). I nodded politely (si, si). We were dumped somewhere and told there were restaurants everywhere (I assumed) so we made our way through the streets. First thing we came across was a lovely market/tapas place encased in glass, that was full of equally lovely stuff.

Like pig legs.

And Spanish people. Or foreign tourists. Or a bit of both.

That's Wines of Pinkleton.

Anyway, we ditched that place when my stomach told me to stop faffing around and feed it more bread with ham and cheese.

Luckily, we found a great restaurant with no ham and cheese in sight and ended up cooking our own beef on a heated rock at the table. Those of you who read my Japan blogs will know that this wasn't the first time I had cooked my food this way. It was, however, the first time I've had grappa with apricot and cinnamon.

Trust me, it looked more appetising in real life, and tasted fantastic!

Nothing more noteworthy happened in Madrid, except sight seeing through the taxi window - it looked very grand and I would be interested in exploring it further another time.

Now, back to the restaurant I'm currently in. I ate squid and am drinking a small glass of red wine (I know, I know, I'll have a hangover tomorrow). I'm sitting next to some German people (schlaufen mit dem Hagenbauer!!). Sleep well. xoxo

A trip to London

Non-organic sea salt?! How is that even possible?! Is the planet really that polluted that the sea isn't organic?! What on earth have they (we) done to it?! 

I'm aboard a British Airways flight to Madrid, because that's how I roll, and I have an organic shortbread biscuit in front of me, which apparently is "sublimely buttery to please even the most particular palate". Well it ain't gonna be going anywhere near my palate, I can assure you! My body being a temple, and all that. Instead I'm tucking into a chicken couscous meal and wishing it was cheese. 

I flew out of London City Airport, an aptly named airport what with it being in the city and all. It's full of business types trying to look business-like. Black 3/4-length coat, black laptop bag and a hands-free kit. Preferably talking about something important on the phone. "Buy! Buy! Sell! Sell!" Or something. You'd never see them in the dark, but if you're not travelling too fast you might hear them sound important early enough not to run into them. My location before heading to the airport was 1 Canada Square, Canary Wharf, also full of above-mentioned business types. What I love about London, and trust me, there are very few things I love about London, is that the business-types (and any other type for that matter) come in all colours and sizes, yet they all manage to look the same. I'm quietly proud that I stand out from the crowd with my navy blue jacket, grey laptop rucksack and general ridiculousness. Although how anyone would know what ridiculousness is in my head at any one time is ridiculous in itself. Perhaps the guy sitting next to me now is reading my blog. If so - mind your own business and get back to sleeping with your mouth open. I'm totally gonna yawn rape you in your sleep.

I'm enjoying being out and about a bit, it's been a while, and my friend Katherine told me that she'd like another blog post. I can't let the fans down now, can I? I will make sure I write about profound things, like how shit the hotel is, or how I got lost during a run and ended up in a bullring. (I really hope that doesn't happen.) The weather in Madrid is set to be pretty cold though, and I didn't  bring any gloves so I'm gonna have to suck it up if I want to go running. And I do want to go running, it would be a missed opportunity otherwise. 

The dude next to me is reading Harry Potter. Ridiculous. 

Right, signing off now in order to carry on with my rock n roll lifestyle of playing solitaire. Laters.

A few failed attempts at finishing a game of solitaire and I've had to endure the guy next to me pulling greenies (do people still call it that?) and someone has guffed and it stinks. I want off this plane. 

Right, I'm off the plane and in my hotel room, as if by magic.  It's the Holiday Inn, but it's a bit posh for a Holiday Inn! Check this out:

Never seen that in a budget hotel. Bet it doesn't work. Night all!