Be careful what you wish for...

It's been a long time since we last spoke.  You'll be detecting that my heart seems no longer to be in weekly blogging.

You're right.

Don't know why and can't explain it.  Sometimes the mojo just isn't with you and I no longer feel compelled to write every monday.

Sorry.  No promises but I'll think about getting back to it on a more regular basis.

Thinking about it, it may well be due to my desire, at the beginning of the season, to make this year's Ironman training more relaxed than previous years'.   I dispensed with my coach, exchewed my Garmin and trained more on feel than stats.  And, I have to say I enjoyed that very much.  I also wanted to delay my fitness peak as I believe that in my last two Ironman races, I'd been peaking around mid June time.   With this race not happening until the end of July, I felt no urgency to get super fit, super quick, relying on the drip drip drip of steady improvement.

How does the saying go; 'be careful what you wish for, it might just come true'?  Something like that, anyway.  Well, it appears to be the case in my situation.  My fitness is certainly being delayed.  Not due to a training regime, but due to the lack of it.

I've been battling an achilles injury for the best part of  the year now.  It started in february and was with me a month or so before stretches and calf-strengthening sidelined it.  It returned, however, in late March and - being the dullard that I am - I kept trying to run on it to 'test it'.

Doh - it didn't need 'testing' - it was telling me there was a  problem.  Three weeks ago, things reached a head when, following a four day, 300 mile cycling trip to the Peak District with some Team MK buddies, I tried to run once again.  After a couple of miles the achilles tightened dramatically and began to give me a  huge amount of pain.  I was forced to hobble in and take stock.

It's taken three weeks to show any sign of improvement and only now am I beginning to be able to walk without pain.   The thought of even jogging is a long way off but at least with the recent improvement I've seen I can see some light at the end of the tunnel whereas for the past three weeks I've been in a bit of a dark place.

All this got me thinking about the insular nature of our worlds.   Isn't it the case that everything orbits our 'world', with it taking an almost superhuman effort to see things from the edge of the galaxy that contains us.  There I am feeling like it's the end of my world when all I have is a tight achilles.  People are dying and suffering the most awful diseases and tribulations yet here's me, with all my relative riches ('life' riches rather than monetary riches) feeling glum about a self inflicted sporting injury.  What wouldn't those with real problems give to exchange places with me?

Frankly, I feel ashamed of my behaviour at times and it's a humbling and strengthening exercise to force oneself out of one's bubble now and then and see your problems from another's perspective.  Things are never as bad as they seem.

I've cancelled all my races up to Ironman Switzerland.  These included Grendon Sprint, Marshman Half IM, Bala Middle and The European Championships in Ireland.  Needs must.  I have only one 'A' race and if I can take part I want to, even if it means doing so relatively unfit and having to walk the marathon.

I'll keep you posted but if you hear me whinging, prod me and tell me to stop being a morose f***er.

Photos this week are, as my girls would say, random.  My new Cervelo R3 road bike, Erin and Alice, me after climbing Winnats Pass in The Peak District, the dreaded achilles when taped up.

I'm sure we have much family news but it's been so long that I'll limit it to this.  We are all well.  The girls are healthy.  Fiona is still my wife.  The weather is wonderful.

We are blessed to be here.  So lucky to be just passing through.  Even a sore achilles can't dull my underlying love of life and sense of joy at the wonder of it all.

I hope you are all well and your problems are tiny ones.

I'm all a Twitter...

Blogging.  One minute I was marching with the Avant Garde, the next I'm bringing up the rear of life's platoon.  Amazing how technology moves on, isn't it.  I find myself neglecting my blog - and, if you're a regular visitor, you won't need me to tell you this.

For that I apologise.

It's strange.  When I write, I enjoy it - but the thought of doing it fills me with a wee bit of dread.  It's been the same with all my writing - whether it be my film scripts or my (unpublished) novel.  Once I'm into it, it's fine but I don't want to start.

There are parallels here with my current situation regarding training.  This year has been and is destined to be a fractured year.  Already I've had several injuries which have stopped me from training.  An inflamed achilles and pulled back are the current culprits.  One of the reasons I've always tried to train through injuries is that - for me - Ironman training is half based on routine as much as the physicality of doing the work.  What I mean is that we do such huge distances as Ironmen that were we to think about the prospect of going for, say a 3km pool swim followed by a 60  mile bike ride (which at this part of the season for me would be a fairly normal morning session), then our minds would put the brakes on and question it.

No, far better to be in a routine where one doesn't think, one simply 'does'.   No thought processes, no 'why am I doing this' - just get up, get your gear on and go.  Bike time is thinking time, not pre bike time.

Injuries, though, present the mind with too much operating space.  Just as I thrive on being busy at work, crashing through all manner of stuff, I thrive from being busy training.  With an injury it's hard to get back into the routine and, the more I think about it, the more I can find other things to do.

Like lead a normal life.

Not that Twitter is normal, but I've been enjoying it recently.  I guess you could call it the mortar between the bricks of my life.  The notion of a worldwide mini-community intrigues me and I enjoy the brevity of posting required.  Though if you were to add together all that brevity, I'm sure it would play out as a sizeable chunk of wasted life - or at least that's what Fiona tells me.

Work has been really busy and has kept me distracted from blogging type things.  I've been producing ads for several clients and working on my book which - and I can't remember where I was last time we spoke - I'm currently re-writing.

The re-writing process has been an eye-opener for me and has affected the work quite dramatically.  At least, I think it has.  I'm going through the manuscript removing what I refer to as 'author's voice', or at least the overtly obvious 'author's voice'.  My film writing has left me more than capable of telling a story in a brisk and entertaining way and I think I need to prune the novel back to that type of story-telling, especially as it's aimed at a younger market.  I've told my agent that I'll take a look at it once it's done and see which I prefer.  Already I think I know.

We had a wonderful trip to our good friends Jonny and Alli down in Devon, staying with them and their two children Solly and Mattilda.  A splendid time was had by all and our trip coincided with a turn in the weather which I hope is hear to stay.  The feeling of warmth on your bones really does lift the spirits, doesn't it.  There's a photo up above of Alice and Mattilda.  How fantastic it was to be on a beach again. I miss the coast, having grown up by the sea.

Erin, Alice and Fiona are all well.  I've enjoyed the Easter break with them and - despite their penchant for sleepovers (the kids, not Fiona) they remain able to function normally most of the day.  It's been a pleasure working with Erin on a school writing project she's doing - she's the type of student that rarely requires any parental input but working with her on writing has been fulfilling and rewarding.   I've said to her that she should think seriously about a life as a writer... if only to eliminate it.

I keep saying to my kids... you can do anything you want to in life.  It's important to repeat that message to them until it becomes second nature.  Already I can see an independent streak in Alice which will lead to her ploughing her own furrow.

Been seeing a few movies too but, alas, my new year's resolution to visit the cinema once a week seems to have crashed and burned as might an aeroplane flying through a cloud of volcanic ash.   I may well find a couple of days, tot up my ticket purchases, work out what I'm short and then see several movies back to back to catch up.

Then again... this may prove difficult if I'm back to training.

And I so, so, so hope that I am.  I'll keep you posted, I promise.

And I promise to try and maintain the blog a little more.

I'm going to have news of my new road bike soon, so there's an opportunity to keep you updated.

My training since I last saw you has been as follows:

lots and lots of hours, hundreds of miles on the bike, followed by injury and hardly any training.  Felt glum, now feeling better.

Onwards and upwards my friends.  Onwards and upwards.

An Apology...

To my good buddy, Robert Quantrell.

Rob, you are right.

Surrogates is a crap movie.

Busy Busy...

I've been up and down between the office and Manchester recently, putting the finishing touches to a series of TV ads I'm making.  I've also been doing some radio commercials.  Consequently, training has been a little fractured and I've needed to be light on my feet to fit in sessions.  But I'm pleased with what I've done and staying at the Marriott has helped as they have complementary membership of a gym in Manchester.

Here's how the week went down:

Monday - Day off
Tuesday - 75 min swim, 10 x 400m off 7'30"
Weds - 45 min 2km swim, 45 min run, 30 mins core and stretch (gym)
Thurs - 45 min run, 30 mins core and stretch, 30 mins run, 15 mins weights (gym)
Friday - 1 hour 8 mile run
Saturday - 103 mile bike, 6 mile run (back to back)
Sunday - 45 min recovery bike, 30 min easy run

Total time training 14.6 hrs
Swim 6km
Bike 118 miles
Run 27 miles (approx)

I'm still keeping up with my new year's resolution to see a film at the cinema once a week.  Or, rather, to buy 52 cinema tickets throughout they year as sometimes it's not feasible to go every week.  This week I took advantage of being away from home to go and see GREEN ZONE, which I wasn't to impressed with, and SHUTTER ISLAND which I really enjoyed.  I also saw (not at the cinema)  SURROGATES which was a little tiresome.

Must rush as time is pressing.  I've got to finish up all my ads, travel to Manchester and continue re-drafting my book which I'm filleting down as an experiment to see what it feels like without too much verbiage.

Onwards and upwards.  Have a great week.

A Question of Balance...

I've been working on 'good form' recently.  In swimming this is concentrating on steady, rhythmic cadence with a good catch of the water and keeping my arse in the air.  In cycling it's my pedaling stroke, push and pull rather than up and down.  In running it's concentrating on my foot strike and a correct roll thereafter, in addition to keeping my arms relaxed and my elbow angle at no more acute than 90 degrees.

I'm hoping it will give me a better balance when undertaking all three disciplines that will, in turn, lead to increased speed combined with a saving in energy.  We'll see how it goes.

Yet there's another balance to be undertaken when we IM train.  The balance of the disciplines themselves.  I see and hear of a lot of folk spending hours in the pool and hammering away at the swim.  Yet, in reality, swimming is (at least for me) less than 10% of my total IM time.  Biking and running are by far the largest constituents, with biking being the most important.

Why?

Well Ironman isn't just about putting together a good bike time.  It's about putting together a good bike time and being able to run a fast marathon off it.  And there's a world of difference between the two.  To achieve both, there is no other way than to get on the bike and ride. 

Miles and miles.

I'm trying to get to a stage where I can reduce my bike time from the 5 hrs 20 mins I took in IMDE last year, yet expend less energy in doing so.  I'm working on my core so I can be more productive in the aero postion and also be stronger when finally upright and on my feet.  I'm also getting used to pushing a big gear and keeping my heart rate low.  I think this is the key to Ironman biking.  Low heartrate. 

So I've decided to reduce my swim sets to, at most, three a week and focus more and more on bike and run.  Even though I'm doing a fair amount of biking as it is.  It's a question of balance in my training and I'll keep you posted as to how it goes.

Here's what last week looked like:

Mon 3.3km swim set
Tues 33 mile bike, 5.6 mile run
Weds 60 mile bike, 2.5 mile run
Thurs 5.6 mile run
Fri 2km swim, 30 mile bike, 5.6 mile run
Sat 63 mile bike
Sun 11.3 mile run

So, that's

Swim 5.3km
Bike 186 miles
Run 30.8 miles

Total training time 18.15 hours including a sports massage.  That broke down into 11% swim, 61% bike and 21% run with the rest going to core and stretching.

I reckon that's a good balance.

Congratulations this week to Mark Kleanthous for completing the fabulously hard IM China in 12 hrs and 29 mins, a fantastically good time in the 36 degree heat.  My Twitter friend Brian Payne had to quit after half the run but put up a great show until then.  He'll live to race another day.

Erin is super excited about being selected for her school's World Challenge Expedition to Mongolia in Summer 2011.  It's a huge challenge for which they have to raise £ 3,500 and will result in a month away in the land of Ghengis Khan.  What an opportunity!  I seem to remember we had a few trips to Chester Zoo!

Must rush as I've spent over an hour in the dentist's chair and now am off to London to record a voice over.

Train hard, play hard and make sure you get the life balance right.

A grown man...

I have to say I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing last week.  Work had taken me up to Manchester and, whilst my achilles injury seems to have cleared up thanks to the work of my physio, JD, I'm still plagued with my long standing back injury.  (Not complaining, it goes with the territory.  Ironmen generally have something wrong with them - it's always a bonus to be operating at full tilt).

I stayed at a hotel that allowed me membership of the local Virgin gym, so took full advantage of their facilities to stay on top of training.  But my back and, in particular, my glutes were giving me all sorts of gyp.  So I popped down to the Arndale Centre and bought a hockey training ball for £ 1.99.

That's bloody cheap.

It's some kind of moulded resin material that stinks to high heaven.  But all I knew was it was hard and that rolling around on a tennis ball, whilst moderately painful, had not solved my glutes problem.

And so it was that I found myself rolling around the floor of my 'junior suite' with a rock hard boulder of a ball beneath me.  I combined the session with a core work out and so began to work up a healthy sheen of sweat.  Now let me tell you, they may hoover those carpets every day, but when you're rolling around on them in your birthday suit you soon realise that there is a lifetime of other people's grime and dust lurking beneath the deceptively clean and luxurious looking shag pile.

Kind of nylony they are too, so I'm sure that were it not for said sweat layer, the static electricity would have caused me to spontaneously combust and burn my way through the floor like some kind China Syndrome meltdown.

Anyway, whilst all these thoughts were floating through my head in a desparate attempt to hold the agonising pain of the hockey ball at bay, another popped into my brain.

What the hell was I doing?

Whilst other businessmen were enjoying a glass of wine and a meal in the restaurant, I was grinding it out on this man made bed of dust, sweating and grunting in pain, before munching down a fruit salad from my fridge and getting an early night prior to the morning's 8 mile run.  What kind of life is that for a boy?

For a moment I began to think the allure of Ironman might be wearing off.

This season seems to be more of an effort to keep to the levels of training I set myself to remain competitive.  I don't know why this is;  maybe it's familiarity with the sport breeding something of a little contempt?  Whatever it is, I've lacked the vim and vigour of previous years.

That said, I'm doing things differently this year.  I have no coach and I've deliberartely delayed the onset of training in an attempt to peak in late July rather than peaking in early June as I feel I've been doing in recent years.  I still think this is the right strategy but it does leave one feeling a little 'rudderless' in these early stages.  This, combined with my virus (from which I'm only recently recovered) I think has served to make things feel a little strange this time around.

But, things are changing.  The sun is back in the sky, I feel like I'm recovering my energy reserves lost to the virus and, most importantly, for the first time in many months I seem to be running injury free.  The last item is key, as running has always been a strength.  My calf tear and achilles injury have served to leave me very short on run practice though and I've really not done that much since September time.

All that was put to bed last week though when, in true stupid-Jevon style I launched myself into a ridiculously demanding run schedule for someone returning from injury.  I ran 6 miles on Monday, 8 miles on Wednesday, 8 miles on Thursday, 15 miles on Saturday and 2.5 miles on Sunday.  Looking back on it - that was pretty stupid.  If Coach K had been with me he'd have insisted I'd have run nothing like that and he would have been right.  However, I seem to have got away with it.

The running was at the expense of the biking this week where I managed only one long-ish ride of 63 miles.  But seeing I was away and that I'd ridden long and hard the previous week I'm not too concerned about that.  My bike form is solid if not spectacular but I can't help thinking that things will become clearer when I get off my heavy winter bike with its slow wheels.  I'll have a clearer idea of where I stand come May-time.

But I've been putting in the hours, with 28.5 hours training over the last couple of weeks.

I've been keeping up my cinema going and am back on track with my new year resolution to see a cinema film every week this year.  Recent viewings have included FROM PARIS WITH LOVE, CRAZY HEART and SOLOMON KANE.  Friday night saw a screening of THE HURT LOCKER at our Old Thatch Cinema Society.  Pick of the bunch for me was CRAZY HEART, with Jeff Bridges' performance being a stand out.

I finally heard back from my agent about my book.  The first literary agent he sent it too 'passed' on it (meaning they feel it's not for them) which, to be honest, is disappointing but not surprising.  There isn't a writer alive who hasn't been 'passed' on, so it goes with the landscape.  We move onwards and upwards and will send it out to another.  If I get similar notes from this literary agent I'll take a look at the writing again.

Work is busy.  So that's always a welcome distraction, even if it does take me away from home and my girls.  I miss them a huge amount when I'm away and it's always a delight to be home and sharing the same living space with them (and I include Fiona, my wife, in that of course).

We have a French student, Pauline, staying with us for a week.  She's here as part of a student exchange programme and Erin will be going to France in a couple of weeks to stay with her family.  Erin has also applied for her school's World Challenge Programme in 2011 which will be a one month trip to Mongolia.   It's a fantastic opportunity and we'll hear this week if she's been selected to go (a process of random selection).  If so, more about it then.

I've rambled a long time.

Today's photo is my nasally offensive, visually repulsive, nerve shredding hockey ball.

Think of me and wince.

It's a Virtue...

Patience that is! 

I think I'm a fairly relaxed, patient sort of bloke.  My parents tell me different.  As do my wife and children.  They tell me I'm in a hurry to get places and do things. 

Which I guess is fair comment. 

With Ironman training though, normal rules don't apply.  The distances are so long and the training volumes so high that it's necessary to start months before an event.  Truth be told we Ironmen get into the habit of always training.  Even through autumn and winter I was doing something most days - something which, prior to starting Ironman, I'd have regarded as a huge amount of training.  In truth, it's now just 'ticking over'.

So my base levels of fitness are much, much higher than they were a few years ago.  Consequently I can stand a few setbacks on the road to Ironman fitness.  It's kind of built into the schedule.  When the knocks and setbacks come, it's important not to try and make up what you might perceive you've lost.  Truth is - you haven't lost it.  You just think you have.  Trust in your training past and your training to come and get back in the game.  Your techinque in the pool will return, as will the strength in your bike legs.

It's like life.  Trust yourself.  Back yourself.  Believe in yourself.  You're a winner and winners don't have problems; only opportunities. 

Last week I was recovering from my bug.  I'd lost over 10lbs in the week of sickness and diorreah and was feeling pretty weak.  So I reigned back the training and gradually got back into it towards the end of the weeks with just under 7 hours of biking, swimming and core work.

This week I'm planning to be back to normal volumes.

I'm still suffering with my achilles injury but last week went to see John Dennis at Body Limits.  JD is a mate from Team MK, an accomplished age group triathlete in his own right and physiotherapist to the GB triathlon team.  He's pretty sure he's on the right track with my achilles and I'm working religiously on his exercises to strenghten my right calf.  I'm pretty sure it's working but won't know for sure until it's put to the test with a decent run.  I managed a 1km test run on concrete over the weekend with no ill effects so am optimistic.

What else is new? 

Well, it's busy at work.  I've a new commercial to produce and direct before Easter and several smaller projects also going on at the same time.  I've not heard back from my agent about my book so will be bothering him sometime this week to see if he's heard back from the writer's agent that he was sending it to (wheels within wheels).  I know these things take time so don't get too het up about the wait.  It can be frustrating though (or does this, once again, go to my being an impatient man?)

Alice had a fantastic parents evening at her school - The Sir Henry Floyd Grammar in Aylesbury.  She's at that age (12, rising 13) where she's now settled into senior school and is really starting to thrive and develop into a young lady.  Happy times.

I missed out on my new year's resolution last week of going to the movies but will try to go twice this week to make up for it.  I'm allowing myself a couple of lapses, as long as I buy 52 cinema tickets in the year!

I could go on but, frankly, find myself itching to get back to work.

Some might say I was impatient. 

Look who came to stay...

 There I was... hammering away on the bike, cutting through the water like a blade and confident that my running form would return once my achilles injury healed up when POW!  My new buddy made himself known.  It was Wednesday morning and I was planning on a long ride.  But something felt wrong.  For the first time in as long as I could remember - I didn't fancy breakfast.  

Something told me to quit the ride and see what happened.  

Well, what happened was that I was laid low by the norovirus, the most malevolent, evil, hostile house-sitter you're ever gonna come across.  It's five days on now and in that time I've lost over 5kgs in bodyweight and quite honestly, I feel like I've been through the wringer.  Unfortunately, despite my best efforts at isolation and copious amounts of disinfectant, I managed to infect Alice.  It also  looks like Fiona may be coming down with it.

So all bets are off.  All training is off.  I'm officially in recovery mode for a couple of weeks.

At least today I feel a little more human again.  The virus seems to have left my gut and moved to my chest, making me wheezy tired.  I'm sure that will pass though.

It got me thinking just how lucky we are to have our health.  Some folk have to live life with illness and immobility and pain and suffering an everyday part of their existence.  

In the last few days I've learned the true meaning of an 'ultra event'.  

So, I'm going to sign off.  I hope that next week I will have returned to training and be a little brighter.

Most importantly, I hope that you and yours are healthy and well.

Underway...

I've just finished my weekly maths tutoring with Alice.  Some may think this is a case of the blind leading the blind but I think I'm more the one-eyed man in this particular kingdom.  She's prone to being downhearted because her test scores are low.  I tell her not to be because:

1.  Life is too short
2.  Maths is a rubbish subject
3.  It's a long race (see previous post)
4.  She's improving.  Her scores are getting better.

She works at it doggedly and refuses to be defeated or defeatist.  I learn a lot from her even though many of these genes have undoubtedly come from me.

I'm trying not to let my achilles injury get me down because:

1.  Life is too short
2.  Achilles tendons are rubbish parts of the body
3.  There's a long time before my race (see previous post)
4.  I always have injuries but I'm gradually improving.

This week has been fairly large on biking what with not being able to run.  The week that was looked like this:

Monday, 2.4km swim drills, 90 min x country brisk walking to protect achilles, 20 mins core session
Tuesday, 2.55km swim set, 45 mins hard bike turbo
Weds, 65 mile bike ride, 30 min easy run off the bike
Thurs, 20 mins core session, 2km Team MK swim set
Fri, 3km swim set, 25 mins run (achilles broke down again :(
Sat, 75 mile bike ride, 25 mins cross trainer (gym), 10 mins core
Sun, 60 mile bike ride

Totals

Swim 9.95km
Bike 220 miles
Run/Walk 16 miles

Total training time 20.33 hours

I'm back on the booze now, having lasted until Friday night when I succumbed to the pleasures of the amber nectar.  That said, I'm really not going at it in the way I used to and am enjoying the days more as a result.  That may change but, for the moment it's a good place to be.

I carried on my new year's resolution of going to the movies every week.  I checked out INVICTUS this week which was no better than okay (in my opinion, of course).  Decent enough acting, decent directing, decent plot but just... not... exceptional.  I'd expected more from Clint and this story.

I'll almost certainly not be running for a few weeks now, so painful is my achilles when I do so.  I'm having the usual treatment of ice and stretching and I'm sure it will die down but it's kind of annoying.  That said, I'm sure the bike and the swim are benefiting.

A brief post this week and no words of worldly wisdom which will be a welcome respite for most of you I'm sure.

Toodle pip.

It's a Long Race...

I say this to my girls.  Life is a long race.  I remember when I was at school, the so-called bright kids would be burned out by the time they were in their early twenties.  They didn't know it then, of course, but it was coming to them, as sure as eggs are eggs. 

You have to pace yourself, whatever you do.  Finishing strong is everything.  But you have to remember... and get this because it's really important... in life, the race never finishes.  Madness, you say.  The boy is spouting gibberish.  But it's true.

The more ambitious you are in life, the more targets you set yourself, the more you are in a 'race'.  And, having confirmed to yourself that you are the type of person that sets themselves targets and goals, then once these aims are achieved, then new ones will materialise to replace them. 

So it's best to treat your aims in life as races.  Plan them, train for them and, when the time is right, make your move and finish them ruthlessly.  When they're done and you've achieved what you set out to do, pat yourself on the back and set yourself a new goal.  You won't expect praise or plaudits because, to you, setting goals is as straightforward a thing as is watching afternoon TV for those who have no ambitions or dreams (or those who are too terrified to try and achieve them).

Remember this too.  The race is never against other people.  Never ever.  It's against yourself.  When you set yourself a goal you challenge yourself and nobody else.  Too often we hide behind, "I quit because I wasn't first."

That's bollocks. 

When I was a kid I wanted to be a film director.  I'm a film director now.  A few years ago I wanted to do an Ironman.  I'm an Ironman now.  I've always wanted to write a novel.  I've written a novel now.  I want to be a great father.  In this arena, I constantly strive to do my best. 

My point is this.  There are better film directors than me, quicker Ironmen, more accomplished novelists and most probably, better fathers (though I'm not sure how one measures fatherly qualities).  But my race has always been with myself.  I think of each box ticked as a lap on a never ending track of life.  Stamina and pacing are essential in order to keep on running. 

And keep on running we must, because it is this that makes us truly alive.

Speaking of running, my achilles flared up following a 13 mile run a couple of weeks ago.  Not surprisingly really - I should have worked up to this kind of distance rather than simply go out and run it with a group of mates from Team MK.  However, John - my chiropractor and sports injury doc (ex international sprinter) has taken me in hand and I'm seeing a gradual improvement.

My back is improving too, thanks to a core strengthening regime which I'm sure is going to pay dividends over the coming months. 

I've been back in the pool the last couple of weeks and can feel myself returning to some kind of form.  I'm swimming around 10km a week and focusing on drills and technique, believing that the speed will come once I'm in a lake.

Cycling still feels great.  Gabriel and I did a monstrously difficult 86 mile ride a week or so ago in torrential rain.  There were moments where we both struggled but I was pleased with my strength and fitness.

And... I've bought myself a present.  The Cervelo R3 frame (left)  is something I'm going to build up into a summer sportive road bike.  Think of it as an open top sports car. 

Been busy watching movies too.  I'm keeping up with my new year's resolution to pay for a cinema ticket at least once every week.  The list of movies I've seen is on the right of the blog and there's a link to each of them on IMDB.  Highlights this week included seeing a brand new print of EASY RIDER at my local theatre - The Rex In Berkamsted - and being pleasantly surprised by TWILIGHT which I watched with Alice.

The photo this week is of Erin and Alice, taken at my mum's 70th birthday celebrations which we recently travelled up to Lancashire for.  Photo here is of my mum and dad themselves who will be horrified that they're on the blog but who, it must be said, are looking pretty damned good for a couple both in their 70s.  I hope I have their youthful genes!

So, tortuously, the point of my analogy:  Ironman training is once again upon us.  I've deliberately kept a low profile throughout January, not starting a programme proper as I know that it's a hell of a long time until July 25th.  There are no prizes for being super fit in January, no medals given out for PB's with six months to go before a race.  Pacing is everything, just as it is in the Ironman event itself. 

This week sees the beginning of my plan proper and I'll be keeping you up to date with the type of thing I've been doing.  I may even list a few times and distances!  If you feel I'm going off too fast or intense, then by all means point me to this post and remind me that it's a long, long, long race.

Fear of Flying...

I've finished my book.

My novel.

Finished.

I'll say it again.  I've finished my novel.  Sounds good, doesn't it.  In reality, though, it's terrifying.  Why is that?  I guess it's due fear of rejection.  A fear that it might not be 'good enough'.  Well, balls to that.  I don't care for fear.  Fear is the father of failure yet to succeed at anything, we need to make failure our friend.

We need to sleep with him, eat with him, work with him and carry him around on our backs as we swim, bike and run.  Only by getting to know him can we understand that he can be beaten.  And that he's nothing to be afraid of.

I think that fear of flying isn't fear of flying at all - it's fear of crashing.  Just as vertigo isn't fear of heights - it's the fear that you will somehow throw yourself from them.  So everything has an equal and opposite force or consequence.  And most of us are somehow 'hard-wired' to default to the fear of the opposite force of whatever we're trying to achieve.

Is someone who is fearful of doing an Ironman fearful of the pain it will require or, deep down, are they fearful that they might not finish.  I suspect the latter.

So far, these are merely observations.  What's the answer?  I guess the answer is to look for successes on the journey to whatever your end goal is.  My success is that I've finally written a novel (and a considerably different one to that which I thought I'd one day write).  As for its success in the 'outside world' - I'm relaxed about that.  I've lost sleep too many times before trying to second guess what may or may not be 'hot'.

Oh... hey... I tell you what might be hot though.  My mate Tom has started a podcast.  It's called 'Marathontalk' and it's available from itunes (free of course) or at www.marathontalk.com
Give it a try.  I think you'll like it.

Any other news?   Training is good even though my body is railing against the sudden switch to Ironman (silly) season.  I'm back swimming this week after a five week lay off so my shoulders feel a bit like they've been through the mincer.   I generally post what training I've been doing on my Twitter account (@ironmanj) so you can keep up with it there by following me on Twitter.  I'll get round to posting the training on the blog as I get further into the season but for now it's not really important as it's all about base building.

No photo.

Today it's all about words...

Evolution not Revolution...

Today's photo is me, at home, in my office, snow bound. Office is top left, above the garage. And I'm looking at you right now.

Because I've been thinking about this whole Blogging thing. And frankly, it's become a bit of a chore. No more do I look forward to getting up on a monday morning and sharing my thoughts with the world. Sure, I feel the need occasionally to pontificate on things, but that's what pubs are for isn't it? But, in the main, for the past few weeks, blogging hasn't been something I've been looking forward to.

Which accounts for why I haven't done it.

I need to find out if I'm going to pursue it further or like some glorious writing mayfly it has simply come to the end of its time. And I'm not going to find out by ignoring it and hoping it will go away. So I've decided to apply the same principles to it that I'm going to be applying to my training regime this year.

I'll do things a little differently.

Notice that word 'little'. I'm a great beliver in re-inventing yourself as time goes by. It's impossible to sit in one phase of your life forever. We have to move on and, quite often, that forward movement is not by enormous leaps but by small incremental steps that, when one looks back, give the appearance of a monumental jump.

It's the key to a varied, fulfilled and exciting life.

Trust me.

So I figure I'll just play around with the blog a bit and see how it goes.

Some changes I'll definitely be making:

1. The look - because it's easy to select a new template and I can.
2. Frequency. Will be when I've something to say. Not just 'every Monday'. Why? Because I'm not a machine. Not this year.
3. Other stuff. I'm going to try and introduce a bit of other stuff, not sure what.
4. Free gifts to all those who subscribe by RSS Feed.

Okay, I lied about number 4.

And, if you're piqued by my reference to this year's training, then here's how it ties in with my thoughts.

This year I've decided to go 'on my own'. That's right, decided to walk the wire without a safety net. What the hell is he talking about, do I hear you say? Specifically, I'm talking about the fact that I've called my coach, Mark K, to let him know that I'm taking a swing at Ironman on my own this year. Why? Well, it's kind of complicated but simple too. I'll try to explain in as few a words as possible.

Anyone who knows me knows I lack nothing on the self-belief, self-motivation front. Frankly, getting out of bed and putting in the hard yards has never been a problem for me since I took a maths exam at 12 years old without doing any revision. I failed so badly and was so distraught that day, that I swore I would never ever take on anything again without being fully prepared. And I haven't. So, consequently it's become the way I live my life.

'99% preparation, 1% perspiration.'

'Fail to prepare: Prepare to fail.'

You know the sayings.

So, my coach's presence in my triathlon life has never been designed to motivate or make me work harder. At the end of 2005 I weighed 105 kgs and decided I was going to do an Ironman. I'd managed a marathon under 4 hours but had never cycled before and couldn't swim more than a couple of lengths of my local pool (and certainly couldn't dream of putting my face in the water as I did so).

I called Coach K and he took me on. I bought a bike and a set of earplugs for swimming. In 2006 I completed Ironman Austria in 12 hrs 10 mins. Two years later I'm down to 10:38, racing at 87 kgs, and I think I can go faster. All of this is due to Coach K. Great plans, great bloke.

But I'm me. I need to have a smack at this myself. I also think that I need to step back from the formulaic approach to training that coaching delivers and find out what it's like to de-mystify the process and coach myself. It's a challenge, for sure, but I guess it's only the same thing that made me start my own business at age 27. I'm also now used to being surrounded by great athletes at my tri club, Team MK.

And also, let's face it, most of you reading this won't have a coach.

Anyway, for better or worse, I'm going to see how it pans out. And I'll never be too proud to go back to Coach K if it doesn't work out. But I have a feeling I'll be okay.

But this isn't a major jump to me... it's a baby step. Same thing. Out swimming, onto the bike, running ... yadda yadda yadda. It's a minor switch. It's evolution not revolution.

So what do I have planned this year? Well, for certain I have Ironman Switzerland on July 25th. On July 3rd I have the European Sprint Championships in Ireland where I'm representing GB in my age group. I've signed up for the Duston Sprint Triathlon in April which is a qualifier for the World Championships and I've also committed to the MK half marathon on March 7th where I'm hoping to PB.

There'll be other stuff for sure, including a couple of half IM's before IMCH. But, for the moment, no targets, no goals, no times set in stone.

No pressure.

Hope you're all well.

Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans...

I was minded of John Lennon's quote over the weekend whilst I was writing on my wall.

Let me explain:

One one of the walls in the house we've recorded the heights of the girls since they were tiny. We now have a range of incremental notches, side by side, which indicates their rate of growth over the years. However, they'd begun to fade and I'd been meaning for ages to get to work with a marker pen, going over them before they were lost forever.

Can you guess what's coming?

How poignant, I thought. These very notches are indicative of what will happen with the girls themselves. They will be with us and, one day, they will be gone and we'll be left with a series of notches on the wall, fond memories and visits from our daughters and grandchildren. And that's not something to hide away from - it's simply the way of the world. But nonetheless, it's a sobering thought.

And so, as I lay on the floor, held the pen at an extremely uncomfortable angle and began to re-write history, I thought of Mr Lennon and how apposite his feelings on 'life' were. It flies by, does our time here and the most important thing is to leave with no regrets. Do what you have to do, go where your heart tells you, strive to achieve even those things that seem insignificant to others but to you will mean everything. Most importantly, cherish love and happiness when you find them. These are the most important things. A moment of true love is worth an eternity of riches. The sparkle in a child's eye infinitely more rewarding than the glitter of gold.

I'm beginning to sound like the bible.

So, set your goals high. Run tough races. Paint pictures. Write the novel you've always felt you could. Tell your children you love them. Kiss them. Tell your wife you love her. Kiss her too. If you have a husband... tell him (he'll appreciate it even though he may seem like a tough cookie). Sing. Strum the guitar. Travel to the places you've always wanted to see. Dream freely. Allow yourself to hope and continue to set yourself targets. Fill your days and stay close physically and emotionally to the ones you love.

Oh yeah, and if you haven't watched The Sopranos, buy the boxed set before you die.

Life is for living. No regrets.

The only regret I have at the minute is that I'm eating too many mince pies. But things could be worse. I'm staying fit and enjoying the off season much more than I have previously. I'm still training nearly every day, but simply doing what I feel like, when I feel like it. Tom and Helen came for the weekend a week ago and Tom and I had a terrific 80 mile bike on the Saturday. On the Sunday, all three of us ran the Pednor 10 mile race. I clocked a reasonably paced (hilly) 71 minutes and was delighted that my calf held up.

During the week I knocked out a 45 mile bike ride with my Team MK buddies and some easy running sessions and swim sets. I've been doing hardly any swimming and was delighted to do a timed 400m in 6:22 which is only 10 seconds off a PB. Great for this time of year.

Saturday saw a 100 mile bike ride with triathlete buddies Trevor, Sam and Rob. I'm not used to doing that kind of distance in the winter but, once again, had a great time.

Work is crazy busy between now and Christmas, shooting and producing TV commercials and desperately trying to finish off my book. But that's great... I thrive on the chaotic nature of having too much to do.

I hope you guys are well and enjoying yourselves with whatever it is that you enjoy yourselves doing.

Our close friend continues to make great progress in their battle back to full health so thanks or all the positive vibes you've been sending out. Keep 'em coming.

I'll go now but leave you with another quote I hold dear to my heart...

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." (Ferris Bueller)

Where do dreams go?

Once you've had them that is? Do you think they disappear somewhere inside you, filed deep in your subconscious to be trotted out as 'Deja Vu' or any one of a number of similar 'spooky' experiences we've all (I'm sure) had?

Or do they somehow float from the very imaginations within which they are born, rising through one's sleepy skull like a bubble might float from the hand held blowing device of a young child, and floating away into the atmosphere before bursting and raining down their constituent parts upon others and seeding their dreams which are born and die in a similar fashion.

So maybe dreams are more human than we know.

Maybe.

Today's pic is Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus - a painting I've always loved and which has always left me feeling I'm looking some kind of surreal dreamscape. Which, being a Dali painting, is exactly what I am looking at, I suppose. Anyway... study it... there's a helluva lot in there.

I had a dream the other night. It was that I'd swum a 1 hour 25 minute Ironman swim. It's some indication of how far my swimming has come that it was not so much a dream as a nightmare. I awoke, sweating and feverish, panting in the transition of my troubled imagination, panicking that I was 25 irretrievable minutes down on my goal time. But I got to thinking about it and maybe it wasn't a nightmare. Maybe I'd do better to slow down the swim a bit and keep fresh for the bike and run. There are a couple of guys at my club who swim that kind of time yet still come in ahead of me on their Ironman.

Food for thought.

I'd love to know what my children dream of. What are their hopes and fears. How do they see their lives shaping in the future. Of course, I ask. Of course, they tell me as best they can. But I'm intrigued to know if they think as deeply about life and our place in the scheme of 'Things' as I often do. Probably not.

Anyway, enough musings. What news do I have for you this week? I have returned from a week in Manchester and a successful production up there. It's always so great to be back home with the girls and there truly is no place like it. Work is busy busy busy and I've been managing to stay off the booze (no alcohol since my monstrous day at Twickenham watching England v Argentina on November 14th) and do some decent training. My calf seems to be healed and I figure I'll know for sure in a week or so whether its something I can consign to the 'old injury' list. I'm determined to have my book ready for my agent's desk by Xmas so that I can get back onto the sauce with some considerable gusto (just in time for my annual forced abstinence throughout January).

I've been road biking and am still feeling pretty strong on the bike but the weather is closing in. I'm planning a 'Winter Century' (a 100 mile bike ride) with some mates on December 5th and have the feeling that will be quite a challenge. Maybe that will mark my return to the ale. Who knows.

I'm currently taking a break at the moment from writing as the wind howls and the rain lashes outside my office window. I'm shortly to be positioned in my 'thinking chair' where I shall take a ten minute power nap following a rather energetic swim this lunchtime.

I wonder if I will dream.

Go Easy on Me...

... I've not done this before. Or, at least, not for a long time. It's been so long since I've blogged I've forgotten how to do it. So I'm going to just roll with it a while if that's okay with you.

Biggest problem has been that I've really lost the will to sit here and churn out stuff that is simply to keep a weekly schedule intact. 'Every Monday' it says. Well, I used to go to the pub 'Every Friday'. Then I didn't. Now I do again. We go through phases where we don't do things because we somehow fall out of love with them.

Of course, certain things are worth working at to ensure you never find yourself turning away from them. Marriage for one. Fiona and I have always worked hard at our marriage, to keep it on track and (hopefully) fresh. Takes some doing that. But it works. As a result we've been happy together for three years.

Just kidding - it's close to twenty nine years we've been together now.

With triathlon itself, I allow myself to drift in the off season. That's where I am now, just drifting. I've been drinking a few beers, eating a few (proverbial) pies and putting on a bit of weight. And that's cool because I know I'll come back strong in January for six months of hard yakka.

So I guess that's where I've been with the blog. Just taking it easy. I hope you'll forgive me for its absence and the slightly pointless ramblings of this week.

But hey... I finished my book! 90.000 words of children's adventure. Not only that but I've also read through it, made notes and have started to polish and re-write. So that's kinda exciting. I want to plop it down on my agent's desk (the book, that is) in the new year. I'm feeling kind of energised by it and am so glad I persevered. There are a few things that don't work but not half as many as I thought there might be.

Erin, Alice and Fi are well. We had a great time in Paris recently and the girls continue to act as living, breathing reminders of how great this life is. Photo this week is of me, Erin, Alice and Fi on the steps at Sacre Coeur.

One of my closest friends (who doesn't want to be identified) has been very sick recently so that's been playing on all our minds. We are delighted with the progress they've made and are a hundred percent dedicated to doing everything we can to ensure a complete recovery. Please pass on positive thoughts. Everything helps.

I feel better for sharing. Especially that last bit.

There could be something in this blogging business after all.

There are many congratulations due and I'm going to forget so many. To my mate Tom, who's now writing for Triathlonplus magazine. To Brian Payne, who did so well in the 70.3 World Champs in Clearwater. To Jamie H. from Team MK who did a 9:49 in IM Florida. To all of you... whatever you've done. Congratulations on doing it and may you do many more things.

It's good to be back and I'll try to be more focussed next week.

Oh, yeah. Isn't 'Tiny Dancer' by Elton John a great song. The guy is kind of a figure of fun now but go back and remember he wrote 'Your Song', 'Daniel', 'Candle in the Wind', 'Tiny Dancer', 'Crocodile Rock', 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' and so many others... all before he'd turned 25. I'm not sure there's anyone in recent years that's come close to that kind of output.

Told you I wasn't focussed.

Toodle pip...

Grumpy...

If I were a dwarf, that's who I'd be. And I use the word 'dwarf' as in the 'Snow White and the Seven...' variety, not in some modern un PC way to describe a person of limited stature.

Whatever. If I were one of the seven dwarves I'd be Grumpy.

I'm grumpy now, having had to write that first explanatory paragraph.

Why am I grumpy?

I'm grumpy because I feel like I've swallowed a hair shirt and its currently residing somewhere between my lungs and my tonsils. So far I've avoided going to the docs, preferring instead to swallow copious amounts of some dubious quack medicine called 'Gloop' or 'Contain' or 'Oil' or something or other. All I know is that it's brown and sweet and what I imagine molasses to taste like.

I'm grumpy because I've lost my Garmin and its £ 250 or so to buy a new one. Don't ask me where I lost it or how I lost it because... as my dad is always fond of saying... if I knew that, it wouldn't be lost, would it.

I'm grumpy because I've managed to mess up my daughter's lap top and now I need to go to the Apple genius bar to go have it fixed. No matter how much I tell myself I shouldn't fiddle with the internal workings of those infernal machines, I always succcumb to their 'fiddle with me, I'm easy to manipulate' charms. In a technical and no other sense, I'm a man who should keep his hands to himself.

I'm grumpy because I'm close to finishing the first draft of my first book. Why is this not a cause for great celebration? Well, because anybody who's ever written anything will tell you that when you get this close to finishing you are overcome by a lethargy and desire to stop right where you are. Something misfires in the synapses of your brain and you tell yourself that what you have been crafting for the past months is, quite simply, the biggest pile of doggy doo that's ever been committed to paper. Or, as it stands at the moment, committed to a machine's memory.

As my good buddy Jonny Kurzman told me though... that's why they invented the re-write.

Which is something else that makes me grumpy. The bloody re-write. Why do we have to re-write? Why can't this draft just be perfect and ready to go to a dozen publishers, all of whom make me stratospheric financial offers?

I'm grumpy because I've no shape to my training and consequently more shape than I'd like to my body. Frankly, I feel fat. I know that a. I'm not fat and b. this is to be expected and that I can't maintain Ironman training for a whole year, lest my legs fall off and my inner organs spontaneously combust. But it doesn't stop me being grumpy.

I've caught up on a few movies this week, one of which also induced the grumps. DISTRICT 9 promised so much and delivered a second half of Hollywood chase movie after promising to re-define the sci-fi genre. Otherwise, I had two great experiences. LET THE RIGHT ONE IN - a Swedish vampire movie - was fantastic, and DEAN SPANLEY was quirky and plain weird. But that's okay. We like quirky and weird.

I had a lovely ride with Alice at the weekend on the Hackleton Roman Challenge mountain bike. This did not make me grumpy at all. In fact the only grumble I have about this is that I can't do things like this with my kids every day. Strike that. I can do things like this with my kids every day but, for some reason choose not to. This makes me grumpy and I resolve to do something about it.

I also had a great ride with Graham and my long lost buddy from Ironman Austria 2008, Rob Quantrell. We had a tough 72 miler around the rolling hills of Hertfordshire. It was great to see you again after all this time Rob and I look forward to seeing you over here for more of the same soon. Today's photo shows us post ride during the capuccino recovery phase. From left, Graham, me and Rob.

Okay, I must leave you. There aren't enough hours in the day.

And that makes me grumpy as hell.

Turbo or not Turbo...

... that is the question.

Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of an outrageous winter...

Or maybe the title should have read "Now is the Winter of our discontent..." to stay in the Shakespearian vein. Anyway, you get the drift. And if you don't, the drift is this:

Summer has gone.

Kaput.

No more.

Il a disparu.

So, let's move on. There's nothing we can do about it and whining about the cold and wet won't solve anything and will take up valuable training time and even more valuable mojo. Time to - as our American cousins might say - "winterise".

I've been through my changing room and carefully folded all my summer gear, putting it to the bottom of my storage boxes. Resting at the top now, ready for action, are a whole assortment of winter tops, head torches, high vis jackets, long bibs, woolen socks, overshoes and the like. In a kind of perverse way I'm looking forward to getting out there and mixing it up a bit in the winter elements.

I'll be turbo-ing too on the bike. I think there are some top sessions to be done on the old machine and I'm going to rig an old TV up in the garage to watch movies on whilst I grind out the hour(s).

I've renewed my annual membership to my local swimming pool, so the days of early morning swims are nearly back with us and the memory of refreshing dips in sun-drenched lakes are fast becoming a distant memory. I always liken the onset of winter to a tooth ache. Once it's with you it's impossible to remember life without it or imagine that it will ever leave.

What else? Well, not running is becoming a real drag. I'm desparate to get out there and start again but am going to give it another week and a half at least. I feel fat and lazy though and am going through serious withdrawal symptoms. I've managed to keep my hand in with some reasonably long bikes (I do a couple of 50 mile plus rides a week along with some shorter stuff) but even managed to perform my first over the handlebars crash at the weekend. It cost me a new saddle, a lot of road rash and a sore neck, but all told I and the bike can count ourselves lucky.

I managed to neatly sidestep the oncoming Range Rover issue by forking out nearly £ 500 on a couple of front tyres and MOT for my current car. I also figured I might as well invest another ton and get the thing professionally valeted. So, I've spent a few hundred but feel like I've got a new car, as opposed to spending £ 30k or so and actually getting one. That, I can tell you, I am happy about.

And so, my lovely bloggers, as the rain beats its steady tattoo on the full length windows of my office and I look out to see trees swaying in the heavy winds, it is here that I must leave you. I must write words in another application for another purpose.

Until we meet again, may the skin on your backside never line a banjo...

(Old Irish saying)

Dancing with Bikes and other stuff...

Today's photo is from last week's swim at Brogborough lake. I was joined by my mates Simon (left) and Peter (centre). Simon is an experienced Ironman and Peter is new to triathlon. He's bound to do well as you'll see that you could fit two of him inside me.

We figured it would be our last swim of the season, but the weather has continued to hold and I swam Saturday morning and hope to get a couple more in this week. The water, however, is fast becoming colder and there comes a point where, frankly, it's all a little tiresome.

So I've gone back to the pool and am sat here snuffling and streaming due to the chlorine I've taken in. I tell you what, we athletes are often snobby about our food intake, eschewing things we feel could be damaging to us and carefully inspecting labels to seek out any ingredients which are not 'natural' yet we throw ourselves into a communal swimming pool with other unwashed bodies and bucketfuls of god-knows-what chemicals all at a temperature of 30 degrees. Surely this has to be a recipe for illness and damage... food for thought (to carry on the rather tortuous nutritional analogy).

I went out to test my calf muscle this week after it had tightened up on me last Sunday. The good news is the tightened area was fine. The bad news is that it pulled in another part altogether. Hence I've decided to have a month off running to let it heal completely. Better that than fighting an injury.

To quote the words of Tony Curtis in 'The Great Race'... "He who fights and runs away... lives to fight another day."

But I've been cycling a lot, which is a good thing. I did a couple of 25 milers and two 50 milers last week, the latter of which was with the 'Roadies' from my club, Team MK. (Team MK triathlon club grew out of the cycling club. Today the teams are essentially one large club but the roadies - for obvious reasons - don't swim and run.) Needless to say, I threw myself in at the deep end with the fast group (three ability groups ride on a Saturday morning) and made a complete horlicks of it, suffering numerous lost bottles and a crank arm that fell off. The Roadies were chortling away at this strange, muscle bound triathlete who sat up in the saddle and had a bike that was barely road worthy. They made me really welcome though and I'm looking forward to going back next week, albeit with a serviced bike.

Speaking of bikes I'm getting a bit antsy for a new one. I've got my eyes on a Cervelo RS or a Cervelo R3 and am currently performing a 'do not touch me dance' around the object of my desires as I normally do before buying anything from a pair of socks upwards. This involves copious amounts of research and pricing and looking at pictures on the internet before finally commiting to declaring my love by way of a wallet opening. Why I do it, I don't know. It's a curse. But whatever I do, or buy, I have to have researched the options first so that I can act with confidence.

I'm also performing the same courting ritual with a Range Rover Sport at the moment so god knows what will become of that. If you believe in a god... any god... pray for me, pray that I don't spend my children's inheritance in this way.

What else? Well, the good news is that since finishing up the flurry of work I'm back writing again. I'm not even going to dish out any chapter numbers but I'm making good progress and it's now become an exercise in finishing rather than in creativity. Again, this is always something that happens to me. At a certain point I simply don't want to finish what I've started. There's always something brighter on the horizon. A better idea, a funkier movie. But I identified this weakness long ago and I now know that any endeavour, especially so called artistic endeavour, reaches a point where - to use another tortuous analogy - the allure and sexiness of a two week relationship disappears to be replaced by the different reality of life with the person beneath the veneer. The hardest part is persevering to get to know the real 'person' and realising that fulfilment and true harmony rests in the soul of a person (or in this case a project) rather than its exterior sheen.

Speaking of which, I really must get back to work.

Anything else from last week? I saw Tarantino's 'INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS' (sic) which I thought to be confused and disapppointing and easily (with the exception of 'DEATH PROOF' which I didn't bother to see) his weakest movie to date.

Alice picked up a part in the school production of LES MISERABLES - a great achievement for a Year 8 student. This means that she and Erin who has a role in her school's production of WE WILL ROCK YOU will be rehearsing after school and at weekends. Which is fine, until you remember that their schools are the thick end of 20 miles away and either Fiona and I have to collect them. 'Twas ever thus for a parental taxi.

No events for me now, I pulled out of The Roade Triathlon and next sunday's Bedford Sprint Triathlon due to my calf.

Someone who did have an event though was a new cyber-buddy, Todd Paul. If you're a twitter fan you can follow him at @toddpaul. What did he do, you ask yourselves, that was so special? Well, I'll tell you what he did.

He swam the English Channel in just over 13 hours.

And there's nothing more I can add to that.

Strange Days...

It's a strange time of year. The six months of intense training leading up to Ironman has long gone, as has the race itself. Yet the triathlon season still continues apace, albeit approaching the end of its year's life.

I have a couple of sprints left in the diary (at Roade on Sunday and at Bedford the following week) but try as I might I can't seem to get as enthusiastic about them or about the remainder of the season as I do for the first half of it.

I suppose it's inevitable given the amount of training and focus that goes into Ironman. I reach a point where I'm a lean, mean fitness machine and, from the day of the race onwards, I feel as if I'm simply losing fitness and putting on weight which, essentially, I am.

But I understand that there's no way I can keep up the intensity of those months and, even now, when I look back and think of what went into those days, I wonder where and how I found the time. But I did and I know I'll be doing it all again come January.

So what in the meantime? Well, last year I committed to December's Luton Marathon which gave me a focus through the autumn months and ensured that not too many of the proverbial and actual pies were consumed prior to Christmas. This year I'll be doing the same thing.

I'm training most days but not with any particular heart or focus at the moment and I guess that's a good thing... just ticking over. I've had an epiphany moment with my back recently which was finally clicked back into joint by my chiropractor, John. I'm pretty sure that I damaged my back not as previously thought - in the Iroman in July - but in May's week long training camp in Italy. My thoughts are that the Ironman simply damaged it more and I realise now that I've been in pain with the thing since May and have simply been masking it or adapting my posture to suit.

But hopefully that's behind me (no pun intended) now and I can focus on good posture and a ton of core work to build and strengthen the weakest part of my phsique.

I've tweaked my calf too - did the bugger on a run at the weekend but I think I got to it in time, stopped and turned back. The next few days will tell if the muscle has pulled but with mucho love and ice, things could be okay.

The girls are back at school and I miss having them around the place. Their infectious energy and fun lights up my life and every school year that rolls around is a reminder to me that one day in the not too distant future they will be gone. All the more reason to savour and maximise my time with them. Erin has started her GCSE courses this year and Alice has begun Year 8. Time is, indeed, flying.

Work has been very busy with shooting, editing and quoting for TV commercials. In a difficult economic climate we've had a decent enough year but I've been guilty of, once again, not finishing my writing project in time. So now I must focus on that at all costs.

Congratulations to my dad who took to the stage at The London Palladium this weekend to sing with his Gold Medal winning Barbershop Chorus. Fiona, myself and my mum went along to watch and, needless to say, were extremely proud.

Congratulations to Colin who fulfilled a long-cherished ambition of representing his country at the World Triathlon Championships on Australia's Gold Coast. His diary of the event and the time leading up to it can be found here.

My buddy Tom is back in training from today. Good luck in the six months or so ahead mate. No doubt we'll fit in some strong sessions together before your jaunt to Lanza. I know it's going to be another spectacular year.

Also, 'big up' to my brother Sean who managed to take time off from jetting around the world on business to run in the annual 'Dam to Dam' race in The Netherlands, posting a great time of 1:49. I construct my life to have time available to me to train pretty much as I like. Folk like Sean have no time at all to spare and their achievements are all the more remarkable for it. Keep it up, big fella.

And this week's photo? Just me, a year or so ago, drinking too much beer. Which is pretty much what I'm doing right now (well, not now of course, more like in the evenings). But all good things must pass and it won't be long before I'm back on the straight and narrow again!

I'm sure there's more to chat about and it's a pleasure being back with you again. Hope you're all well and happy. Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts.

Fast boys...

Damn the sleep fairy... she's put none of her magic dust in my eyes and, as a result, I'm unable to sleep. So I've risen at 0530 and, with nothing better to do, figured I'd craft a few words and upload them to you, dearest reader.

The title of today's post comes from Sunday when, after enjoying a relaxing 55 mile bike ride with my mate Ben G, we toddled off to Botolph Claydon to watch the BTTC (British Time Trial Championships). Set over a 3 x 10.2 mile loop, the course offered over 30 miles of country roads for the fastest riders in the country to push themselves to the limit. The main draw and eventual winner was one Bradley Wiggins who blew the field away and claimed the Time Trialists jersey that he intends to wear in next year's Tour de France. What a performance.

The day previous to this I'd once again taken to the roads on my Specialized road bike for a 65 mile bike ride with Graham. The two rides over the weekend meant that I've got back into long distance training and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Unfortunately, as a consequence I've triggered off more back problems and have an appointment with the chiropractor ahead of today's duathlon at Silverstone.

With work, I've been busy as the Mayor of Busy on National Busy Day. I've finished off my latest commercial which has involved two solid days of green screen editing. This is an exhausting process of compositing (or rather of an editor compositing) layers and layers of action onto a green screen to form the background to my subject in the ad. Long days in London but I revel in them and revel in the fact that I can work in shorts and a T shirt and earn a good living for something that was and still is a hobby and that I thoroughly enjoy. Not everyone is that lucky.

I have another production this week in Manchester and on Saturday I'll be traveling up to Blackpool for the 50th Anniversary Dinner of my first rugby club... Blackpool RUFC. They were golden and happy days at Blackpool and I can't wait to see and enjoy a drink with my old buddies from up there. I'll also be joined by my brother, Sean, and my dad.

My alarm has just gone off which means it's 0630 and time to wake the girls for school.

I doubt they will move as fast as Mr Wiggins so must leave you for another week.

Kia Kaha, peace and health.