I Thought I Would Be Fitter

Somehow after training since... mmmm June? I really thought I'd be buff by now. Yes so I don't manage to make ALL the training sessions and I don't do my 100 sit ups 3 times a week but I never thought I'd actually be FATTER. Now I understand that exercising gives me more girth. Arms are thicker (not too difficult, considering where they were at), upper back is a little more tight under the pits (I can do really good pull-ups, albeit only about 10 in total) and I won't need false calves under my Restoration stockings but WHERE THE FRAK HAS THIS SPARE TYRE COME FROM?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? This is despite the running, this is despite the fact I am physically more able than I was 9 months ago.

There will be no picture of it until I can do an 'AFTER' photo. I can 'feel' a six-pack once I move the fatty huggables to one side. But hmmm, I'm flippantly thinking 'hmmm, that Everest Workout and Diet better work'. It's probably masking fear. yeah. Fat masking fear.

For the time being, I'm holding in.

Medic!

We had the last official meeting for The Everest Test 2009 on Saturday, with talks given by various people where we found out various bits of news, good and bad. Now we have an official title sponsor we have now been renamed The Nokia Maps Everest Test 2009 which is great!

One bit of bad news was that BN-BN is no longer going to be with us on the trek, which is a real shame. Long live BN-BN. We'd rather have you safe and sound than almost certainly really ill. That's real heroism, knowing when to live and fight another day.

As a nice little segue from illnesses to the medics, the medics gave us a rather serious talk, by way of introduction to themselves and their respective backgrounds. We all came away with more than a little fear in our stomachs. All the girls picked their favourite. I took notes. Crackles? In me lungs? Isla Fisher gave a good talk as did Ian Pitchblack. The other two (whom I have just met, so I can't remember their names as I'm not friends with them on facebook) were good talkers as well as informative and friendly. I look forward to getting to know them all properly on the trek. Hopefully I won''t have much dealing with them in a 'professional' capacity.

I hope I don't get PMS on the mountain. Or whatever it's called. That'd be quite scary. I guess the other things I could get are HACO and HAPO, which could result in death, perhaps or worse. I've had HANO before but that was 10 years ago and it mysteriously cleared up just like it arrived. But a bit of debilitating swelling on the joints doesn't really compare with fluid-filled lungs... hmmm... do I really want to do this?





Unfortunately, yes.

I Really Like Your Merkin

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Now that we are nearly set, with just under a month to go I’m able finally update this blog. I can’t remember the last blog I did, let alone the things that have happened since then. Yes, I can see that I did one on Monday night/Tuesday morning inserting a portion of a song lyric by Joni Mitchell, just to strengthen my resolve. I think the enormity of what I will be doing in April has just hit me, has just sunk in. Let’s face it, copypasting a song lyric does not a blog make. These blogs may not be chronological.

At the end of Feb, Brooksie, VixNix, VickStaveley, Hely, Foody, Coxy (as I have just now named her, she probably needs some sort of outdoorsy army-style name), Agnes (Brooksie’s running friend) and I went to Gomshall in Surrey to wear in our boots.

Not one for nambying it while walking I thought I’d pack my rucksack with heavy things to weight it. 2 pairs of shoes, a change of clothes, a 2l bottle of water, a compendium of hit songs from the 80’s (for guitar and piano) and a bag of uncooked rice. Yeah, Zooby knows how to pack for harsh conditions.

I got to Gomshall earlier than the other London-based ladies (Isla coming up from Brighton and VixNix driving from Hampshire) and was greeted off the really unsecure railway crossing (basically, just walk on the tracks to cross to the other platform, how very 1950’s) to be greeted by VixNix with flasks of hot drinks and biscuits in the back of her car. The girl knows how to make a tired man welcome, I tell you! Isla is there too, tea in hand and warming herself by her car. Within minutes the rest of the ladies arrive – we took different trains from civilisation – they having left from Clapham and me from Charing Cross. After making a pitstop in the café of the caravan salesroom we set out.

Now, Brooksie has apparently made this trip before and wanted to ‘go another way round the hill’. Her words.

From the railway station, we wandered into a village called ‘Shere’ which, according to the Shere Tourist Board, is the prettiest village in Surrey. It certainly has a well-clipped cemetery and several country pubs. However, it was once we were out of the village that things started to go wrong…

I am being unfair. Brooksie didn’t actually get us lost, we didn’t really get lost, we just took longer than we thought we would to get to the path that she had planned.

Right, according to my blackberry, our lowest elevation was 327ft and our highest was 993ft which is a difference of 666 ft. I’ve just worked that out by the way but something tells me it was something to do with the incline – the fact that it was such a b*stard to ascend. Somewhat worrying. How high are we climbing up to - 16,945 ft? Yeah. That b!tch is gonna be some work. Altitude sickness, the headaches, the foot aches (our journey was about 4 hours and we covered 9.98 miles) the shoes fared well, no chafing, no blisters, great, in fact. We must remember to wear comfy shoes for as long as possible while we’re camped (or teahoused).

When we got back to Shere, we headed straight to the pub and a welcome lunch (which had an extraordinarily wide selection of food on the menu, VixNix noted). You can see the trail here : Gomshall, Gomzle, Goms-hall

Now it must’ve been the altitude (see my spoof video) as my ears hadn’t popped when we got down, but I thought I went slightly deaf. Apparently, on the train home, Brooksie commented on the fleece that I was wearing – ‘I really like your Berghaus’. It's not what I heard.

Note To Self

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You've got to shake your fists at lightning now,
You've got to roar like forest fire,
You've got to spread your light like blazes
All across the sky.
They're going to aim the hoses on you
Show 'em you won't expire!
Not till you burn up every passion
Not even when you die.

Come on now

You've got to try...
If you're feeling contempt -
Well then you tell it
If you're tired of the silent night
Jesus well then you yell it!
Condemned to wires and hammers
Strike every chord that you feel
That broken trees
And elephant ivories conceal.



Judgement of the Moon and Stars
jm 1972

Better Git It In Your Soul!

Thank you Charles Mingus for composing such a great piece of work.

I have recently taken up jogging. From my last blog on the subject I have been taking this thing rather seriously since I have a new toy to play with. Mainly my GPS blackberry thingummyjig. It tells me where I've gone, how fast (and sometimes how high) I've gone in my last run. With every run, my speed tends to get faster though it has never been the same journey twice.

I did attempt to make the same journey twice last night but after my little comment on Cuzzer's blog about getting lost whilst running, I seem to have been blessed with instant karma. Yes. I got lost. In Peckham. Again. Mainly due to the music I've been listening to on my mp3 player. Perhaps I need an upgrade to a bigger iPod. The music I tend to like is usually of the more soulful variety - Joni Mitchell, Ray LaMontagne, David Gray, Aimee Mann and such the like. Not ideal running partners as most of them are in a minor key or with quite an al dente bpm (having said that The Beat of Black Wings is a great running song, though Vietnam war anti-heroes talking about being a pawn in a war don't make for great enthusiasm!) 

However You Get What You Give (The New Radicals) is amazing. It does cause sudden bursts of euphoria while running which are great as suddenly I start running faster almost to sprint levels, bypassing shoppers with that 'what de bway gwan teft?' look.

I did have to raid my flatmate's cds for running music and the cds that I seem to be given for birthdays, Christmasses etc (that weren't on my wishlist). I must say, having given it a go for 3 listens Madonna's latest 'album' is rubbish. The writing is just so bad. If anyone ever wanted a reason for women over 45 to not do dance music, this album is it. Though her Anna Friel song is another euphoria-inducing track from 'Ray of Light'.

The only problem with tanzmuzik while running is that at traffic lights, I tend to dance. And running while doing 'big fish, little fish, cardboard box' is a sight to behold. Yeah, I went clubbing in the early 90's.

What I have enjoyed this week is the inclusion of Charles Mingus' 'Ah Um' album. Recorded in 1959 it's great music to run to. Firstly because it great jazz (or technically it's 'hard bop') but because it's so smokin' it does feel like you're in a film noir being chased by the cops. In Peckham, this is not hard to imagine. 

It also gave me the reason to get lost in Peckham. Again. So smokin' was the music that I missed the turn, or turned too early or something (looking at the map, I was one street too early. I really wanted my GPS to be working this time. After 'enjoying' Alan Curr's attack of the grumps last week about getting lost, instant karma certain made it's presence known. So this week I am bereft of my 'lost map' of my journey which would have made an amusing picture.

Hey ho.... as they say in Peckham. More later. Zooby Overandout.

Far Away From My Well Lit Door

Well, last week saw the new regime of training start for most people. I know that for me I was only doing the odd ab exercise or press-up to keep me in trim. It was a good week methinks. First of all it started for me New Years Eve when I went shopping to get some shoes. I came back with 4 pairs. A black smart pair (for formal occasions), a pair of simple walking shoes for everyday (I finally gave up my Rockports which were the most comfy shoes on Earth. For about the first 3 years!), my hiking shoes (beloved and be-expensive!) and a pair of a-hem.... running shoes.

I've never had a pair of running shoes in my life. I don't run. Well, when I do, I like to think that I run properly, without hurting my spine, shins or feet. Mainly because I run properly, through the feet, not just slapping them down on the pavement like I see so many runners do. Was it my years of running barefoot at school? Yeah, not that I always forgot my kit and had to run in vest and pants, but this was Malaysia in the 1970's/early 80's. We didn't bother with shoes unless we were playing football. Now I have an aversion to round things flying through the air towards me - I lasted 2 weeks training on the school cricket team waaaaaaaay back in 1986 - so team sport was/is never my thing. It's why I enjoy capoeira. No balls, no shoes, just a roda and a berimbau and a love of movement. And while it's played together, it's not a team sport. More one-on-one. Oh yeah. And it's meant to be played in the heat. I can't wait to go back to it.

But back to my running shoes. My first attempt at running (late last year, methinks) was first met with 'in those shoes?' from Brooksie. Hmmm... what's wrong with my Rockports? Ok, so they're a bit worn round the edges, but I love(d) them. Then I got a grilling from Chris 'Kiwi' The Kiwi New Zealander Palmer about my footwear. I have had easier footwear slangings from Gok Wan. But he was being very (and thoroughly) H&S about exercise, which was very good. Yeah, Chris is from New Zealand, if no one knew that before, you might not tell from his accent. But yes, early January saw me walking into work with my new Reeboks in my bag. Then having planned my route I ran from work to home. I didn't think I'd make it. But I did. This be the route:Perhaps I shouldn't have had my blackberry in my bag jiggling about as it does look like I was drunk and running through buildings. For a run, for my first real run of the year, of my life (I'm not really counting the one time I did running with the Everesters, that was more training, men. Training.) I knew I was playing it safe - the last two thirds of the run is down the Old Bent Toad which I knew the landmarks of so well. And it's also along my bus route, which was a JIC. (IC I keeled over with a coronary, that is). The landmarks were helpful, for my first run. Tescoise Corner wasn't the great relief that I thought it was going to be but I knew that it was over half way. Seeing the familiar green lights of Asdanistan was better. My second run of the year, the next Monday, I had a meeting in town at The Spotlight about my (hah) "career" which was better than I thought, and more helpful. I was going to run from town to Home but I'd forgotten my trakkie bottoms so I decided to go home first and run a different route that was the same length as my first just to see if I was a little faster.Nope I wasn't faster. I'd taken the wrong turning in Peckham somewhere and decided that possibly it wasn't the best place to get lost in. This time the GPS was in the front pocket. It looks like I'm much more sober, at least.

Along the run I got thinking, which is never a good thing for me to do. I began to think, 'ok, this is good for me, ok I'm getting healthier. But why sweet Lord, WHY?'. I remembered a car journey. I don't know how old I was. Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur. It was the Ford Cortina Ghia, I believe, so Adam might be able to narrow down the time. I'm thinking 1978-82 but that could've been the Chrysler as it was a brown interior and they both had brown interiors, I believe... anyway, it was a journey, much like any other in the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur, going via highways but it was a holiday somewhere... possibly Cameron Highlands or Fraser's Hill or somewhere like that. It was a holiday. We'd stopped in traffic and nothing was moving. I was looking out of the car and I was watching this red lorry turn off into a dirt road. Dirt road. Malaysia. It's bright orange, almost like a terracotta. Bright orange mud.

As the lorry was driving away I thought 'Where are they going? What do they do?' It was a lorry. Like any other lorry. It was a journey for them, like any other. Nothing special. I was perhaps around 8 or 9, but it was the first time I realised that the world didn't revolve around me, it didn't even revolve around my family. Here we are in our air-conditioned car while these people were on a muddy track going off to work or delivering something somewhere that was nothing to do with us, or the people immediately around us... I don't know if this was the start of a self-awareness or something profound like that, or maybe it was fairly normal for people to realise that this world, it sometimes isn't about you. I like to think that I'm on this trip because it isn't about me, it's about the photos, it's about the Sherpa, it's about the people we're trying to help, it's about playing in the team. Which is what we did on Thursday and Saturday at Battersea Park. Much more what we're about. Not really competitive but simply encouraging. In just under three months from now, up until the game, that's what we're going to be doing. Getting up that mountain. Together. As a team. Not competitive -

encouraging.

Happy New Year Everybody!!!!!

Let's have a good one!

Much love


Zooby