A Very Dark Place

Last 200m of a 2K.

This is me.

Cheers Jimmy Appleton for le photo!

Supposed to go with the 2K post but it didn't make it in time. To be honest, it's so horrendous it deserves its own post!

Training camp, among other things

Apologies that it has been a little while since I've posted. Life has been hectic recently and I have had a little writer's block, which was sad.

I would like to begin with a little dedication, for a great thing has occurred. A couple of weeks back none other than Xeno Muller left this comment on my 2K blog post:

"This is funny and love the minimalist art. I would love to see more despair in the little stickman's face!!!!! Ok, the problem is that I cannot show this to most people because it is not G rated in language. Bloody heck, can you do a G rated version, where you substitute F... Frank, Frog, Keep it going. I for one wish you all the best, been there done that. I will keep my heart rate below 140 :-)
Xeno"

 Here is a brief summary of my reaction to this:

This is my actual face while on the internet.

In light of this, all swears this week will be replaced by "badgering" or references to other small woodland mammals. (Though to be honest, I am sure that swears will accidentally slip through. IT'S SO HARD TO NOT SWEAR.)

Here, have an AWESOME video:


But yes YES. Other news is I have just come back from the annual CUWBC training camp. I LOVE TRAINING CAMPS.

I think the only thing better than rowing three times a day is rowing three times a day and doing weights too. (Badgering LOVE weights). The result of training camp was I vaguely learned to row with other people  for the first time in quite a while. Turns out I was initially quite shit at this:

This lead to me being bucketted (is that a word?) which was genuinely quite fun as well as useful.

I can now add "being in the idiot seat of a bucket" to my list of rowing experiences. By the end of training camp me and Izzi (my bucket pair) were essentially the same person we were so in time. It was awesome.

The only problem with training camp was the fact that the catering didn't really understand what rowers really want to eat.

Particular low points included

• brain pate
• white fish, creamed spinach and crisps (!?!?)

Thanks for the photo Griffo!

• veal (ever had veal reflux during a piece? UNPLEASANT)
• tongue (w/ tastebuds still attached)

 By day 2 I was basically begging for some plain cooked pasta. If there wasn't a sauce I wouldn't have complained. Just anything that wasn't covered in cream or oil or made of baby abused cow.

The oddest event of training camp was in fact not trying desperately to keep your lunch from seeing the lake but a weird incident with The Dog on the morning of the last day.

So, I decided to go for a cheeky run (which, surprisingly isn't the odd thing). Woo orange hat! Woo awesome new volcano-coloured trainers!

FIT AS.

As soon as I step outside I am approached by a truely massive dog.

So after being mauled by the badgering thing, it proceeded to follow me as I went to run around and explore the town.

However, it eventually turned out to be quite fun as I felt incredibly badass running around with what was effectively a wolf. This thing was properly HUGE and it was just so ... random. Running around this random French town in the dark with a massive black dog lolloping around behind me. 

Ummm, other random news (this is a post of a string of unrelated things I'm afraid. Yep, one of those.) I PUT EUROPEAN SPACE AGENCY STICKERS ON MY EMPACHER.

This is because I am exceptionally cool and not a massive nerd at all.

Sweet.

See, I told you swearing would slip in. Sorry Xeno, I am too lazy to change the picture.

Umm umm umm. *random topic change #345* So I am doing a PhD in the maths department, which means that I occasionally go and see my supervisor and talk about maths a bit. In his office he has two swivel-ly chairs, like most offices do.

I was a retard to the chair :-(

Yep. One distinguished academic. One chair with no arms any more. MASSIVE AWKWARD EMBARRASSMENT.

*sigh*

I really do not know how I will ever get employment :-(

Now, for some advice for the womenfolk who read my blog. When a hairdresser asks you how long you want your hair, do not under any circumstances give this reply:

NO BAD LIFE CHOICE.

Upon seeing this glorious picture upon the book of the face...

Not matching socks arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

... I got this text from my mother.

(Note the use of the word "again"... :-/) Gotta love parents! I also now recieve an awful lot of chat like this:

which I am not really sure is a complement.

Badgering hell rage.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo GREAT EXCITEMENT.

I brought the best mechanical pencil in the world ever. It is like writing with awesome. It is the rotring 600 (all the way from Japan) and it is fit as.

*makes this face*

Seriously, this thing is like technical drawing porn it's so good. It has made me want to draw and write things ALL THE TIME.

(I have really bad pencil chat, I'm sorry. But this thing is properly beautifully made and I always find that pleasing.)

*sigh* this blog post is not going well. I AM TALKING ABOUT MECHANICAL PENCILS FOR SQUIRRELLING SAKE!

:-(

Well, I shall leave with the news that The Sufferfest (as reviewed last time) has definitely made me better at cycling. I am gauging this by I ride I did the other morning when, even though riding a vaguely toughly geared fixie, I was third to the top of Chapel Hill (offically The Only Hill In Cambridge) whereas usually I am so last it's hilarious. I dunno. I think the turboing with the structure and sustained power they ask for (well, shout at you to do) has made me both more aggressive and able to sustain those attacks.

I'm hoping it wasn't just a fluky ride and I have actually got better but only time (and the next meeting of CUWBCCC) will tell.

Mental legs! MENTAL BADGERING LEGS!!!!!

I completely lost the ability to use stairs and get into and out of chairs that day. It was great :-)

I think the new mental death weights didn't help much either (they included 4 mins of 20"/10" on/off HOW MANY FRONT SQUATS CAN YOU DO which is a great recipe for nearly passing out - serious 2K-level pain. You should try it.)

 Oh, there was swearing that day. The oddest thing is that we chose to do this to ourselves and enjoy doing it. Those days when you wake up and can barely stand up you punch the air and go "YEAH take that legs!" because you know in a couple of days you will be more awesome than before (and can therefore do MORE FRONT SQUATS). Sure, you're weighing up the pros and cons of getting that all important maths-strength coffee but it's DOWNSTAIRS and walking is hard and you're not sure that your shoulders can take levering yourself out the chair.

I. LOVE. ROWING. :-)

I shall leave you with Gordon, who appears to have developed a dairy addiction.

Protein's important kids!

I really want a cup of tea but the kettle is across the kitchen :-( Badgering hell rage.

Anna Railton vs. The Sufferfest

As anyone who as ever sat on a turbo trainer/watt bike knows, training on a stationary bike is BADGERING BORING. You'd have thought that it would be comparable to any other sort of stationary exercise machine,  but no. There is a special kind of tedious hell reserved for sessions on a turbo.

Time just does not budge. I will happily spend a couple of hours in a boat or four hours cycling round the places trying not to be killed by traffic and swearing at stuff but heck. An hour on a stationary bike? Noooo thank you.

With Christmas training needing to be done (and a lack of ergo => turbo training) I took the plunge and purchased The Sufferfest videos. Not just one, mind you. All nine of them (which was probably overkill, but hey). They were recommended to me by a friend in Austrailia (hi Lindsay!) who was feed up of getting mowed down by the traffic out there but still wanted to keep cycling. 

Therefore on Christmas Eve I attached my Dad's bike to the turbo attachment thingy (avec much swearing), but on some bib shorts and some festive socks and downloaded "A Very Dark Place". 

Bib shorts are sexy. FACT.

I sat on the bike, trepidation in my heart. 

The bastarding headphones DID NOT REACH THE BASTARDING LAPTOP. RAGE.

I can't hear their soundtrack! HOW WILL I COPE?

Well, you will be pleased to know that Trance Nation (The Collection) came to the rescue. 

With my mp3 player cranking out some serious volume (and serious tunage) and safely nestled in my sports bra (a decision I would later regret) I was set. Bring it the fuck on Sufferfest. The plan?

The warm up. I quite enjoyed some vague perving on the en-lycraed arses cycling ahead in front of me. Mmmmm quad definition. However, all thoughts of cyclist's arse-quality rapidly went out the window when the work began. A couple of balls-to-the-line quick sprints and the intervals started. 

Turns out four minutes is A FUCKING LONG TIME. 

Three minutes into the first one and I was looking over my shoulder for the finish line.

And they kept coming! Relentless bastards! By the third/fourth (?) one I didn't know which interval I was on or where the fuck I was.

They tell you how hard to go with simple scores out of 10. My favourite instruction that was bellowed (well caps lock shouted) at me from the laptop was this:

Brilliant, just brilliant. These people understand suffering. 

There were points when there was a very real risk that I was going to revisit the ploughman's I had for lunch a mere five hours before. And still Fabian Cancellara attacked and I had to chase him down. What an utter bastard. He was definitely going down. Me and my thirty year old orange bike of awesome WERE GOING TO TAKE THAT FUCKER DOWN.  

So much fun. I was pleased when it was over though. 

Putting my mp3 player down my sports bra did turn out to be an bit of an error with it's little protective mp3 player sock utterly saturated. Very nearly lost the poor thing to my sweat :-/ 

Once I had learnt how walk again I proudly pointed out the HUGE puddle of sweat I had produced on the floor to my bemused parents. They weren't as happy about it as I was and directed me to the mop. 

Now I don't particularly like plugging stuff on here but these guys deserve it. If you ever spend any time turboing you should buy some/all of these videos. They are well thought out, have great bits of masochistic humour thrown in and are FULL OF SUFFERING. These guys try and drop you and you crucify yourself to go with them. You just don't get that sort of intensity (and perverse enjoyment) from staring at a wall for 90 minutes. Honestly, BUY THIS STUFF. You will not be disappointed. 

So apart from the discovery of the awesomeness of The Sufferfest Christmas has passed without incident. Toblerones were inhaled and sarcasitic commentary was provided to rubbishy family films.

Exciting Christmas presents included orange panniers (ORANGE! :D) and a saddlebag with which to go exploring the British countryside by velocipede.

I also got not one but two identical biographies of Tom Simpson, not that I'm difficult to buy for or anything...

The Christmas holidays also means the annual using-public-gyms-to-train-in. This has lead to me do a disproportionate amount of military press style weights because every commercial gym ever randomly has a machine dedicated to this.

 YAY MILITARY PRESS.

I would also like to take the time to have a massive rant about why gyms don't find it necessary to let any cool air at all into their establishments. It's also like they thought "I know, let's but all the rowing machines in a tiny airless box and watch everyone die of heat exhaustion while using them! That'd be great fun!"

I mean, SERIOUSLY, it's below freezing outside - why the badgering hell is it over 20 degrees in here? Sure, I guess your average person doesn't sweat that much after walking on a treadmill for 10mins (has anyone else noticed this? The logic of paying expensive gym fees just to walk on a machine for a trivial amount of time has clearly passed me by.), but I am dying of heat exhaustion 2K into a UT2 ergo - WTF guys?!? Sort it the fuck out!

But hey, I got my own back my mentally scarring the occupants of one gym I used by erging in bibshorts. And a sports bra. And nothing else :-/

I mean, I didn't mean to. Sure, I probably shouldn't have forgotten my unisuits when coming home for Christmas, and I probably should have kept my t-shirt on. But it was HOT. Really bloody hot. It's their fault really.

 Finally, my housemates and I were a little bored before we went our separate ways for Christmas and made our house-duck do a 2K. We're a cruel lot.

**WARNING contains graphic images some may find disturbing**

Pre-2K dairy loading (??)

Casual turbo warm up

Oh nooooo

It begins!

FINISH IT!!!!

Oh...

It is important to recover properly after a 75min 2K!

After such frivlolity, I would like to set you a very sensible and mature challenge (as suggest by Janet in a comment somewhere): The Infinite Duck Project.

Can you make Gordon just one pixel big via a long chain of ducks looking at pictures of ducks? Can you? Ay? AY?

Here is the higher res version of the above. Do your worst! (I will keep posting the next installment underneath so we can achieve infinite duck glory).

With that, I bid you good night! (And don't forget about The Sufferfest!)