Maybe after spending a month in near-isolation in southern France has made me more susceptible to the lower forms of humour but this clip from Family Guy had me in stitches - the real story of how God created the Big Bang and, therefore, the universe.
Video not responding? Click here
So now you know, whether you believe in evolution or are from Kansas!
Showing posts with label Videos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Videos. Show all posts
Saturday, September 11
Thursday, June 24
WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!
Although the volume has diminished so that we can now actually hear the commentators, sometimes even the fans, those blasted vuvuzelas are ruining the World Cup. Worse, they are threatening to take over in every other sport - they had to specifically ban vuvuzelas from Wimbledon, in case some idiots decided it would be "fun" and "atmospheric". Cricket and baseball are two more sports that have lately banned vuvuzelas from their stadia.
Quick recap of the vuvuzela:
1 - They are plastic trumpets invented by a manufacturing company in 2002; or, allegedly, by a guy who first made an aluminium one in the 60s made from an old bicycle horn. Either way, they are not part of the traditional South African culture, just an excuse to make a quick Rand.
2 - It has a sound pressure of 120db, as loud as a 747 jet engine at take-off, and can lead to permanent hearing loss for unprotected ears after prolonged exposure. Thought you were lucky to get a ticket to see one of the matches in South Africa? I know a good hearing aid company...
3 - TV viewers were unable for the first round of matches to even hear the commentators; the commentators were even unable to hear each other. Players could not hear their team-mates on the pitch, some felt disorientated and unable to concentrate; even the stadium announcer cannot be heard (imagine if they ever need to evacuate the stadium, nobody will hear the tannoy!)
4 - Demand for earplugs to protect from hearing loss outstripped supply; a vuvuzela manufacturer came to the rescue and began selling earplugs to spectators (a double whammy money-spinner, if ever I saw one).
5 -Their monotone sound drowns out all the atmosphere from the game, the ebb and flow of the fans cannot be heard, no more the traditional (for England) fans' band playing the theme from The Great Escape, I can only hope the Brasilian samba band can drown out the vuvuzela-wielding zombies.
Think I'm over-reacting? Check out this guy:
Problems viewing? Try here.
Quick recap of the vuvuzela:
1 - They are plastic trumpets invented by a manufacturing company in 2002; or, allegedly, by a guy who first made an aluminium one in the 60s made from an old bicycle horn. Either way, they are not part of the traditional South African culture, just an excuse to make a quick Rand.
2 - It has a sound pressure of 120db, as loud as a 747 jet engine at take-off, and can lead to permanent hearing loss for unprotected ears after prolonged exposure. Thought you were lucky to get a ticket to see one of the matches in South Africa? I know a good hearing aid company...
3 - TV viewers were unable for the first round of matches to even hear the commentators; the commentators were even unable to hear each other. Players could not hear their team-mates on the pitch, some felt disorientated and unable to concentrate; even the stadium announcer cannot be heard (imagine if they ever need to evacuate the stadium, nobody will hear the tannoy!)
4 - Demand for earplugs to protect from hearing loss outstripped supply; a vuvuzela manufacturer came to the rescue and began selling earplugs to spectators (a double whammy money-spinner, if ever I saw one).
5 -Their monotone sound drowns out all the atmosphere from the game, the ebb and flow of the fans cannot be heard, no more the traditional (for England) fans' band playing the theme from The Great Escape, I can only hope the Brasilian samba band can drown out the vuvuzela-wielding zombies.
Think I'm over-reacting? Check out this guy:
Problems viewing? Try here.
Friday, December 18
Have a phenomenal Christmas!
In case I don't get a chance later this week, I hope you all have a phenomenal Christmas!
Video not playing? Try here!
Video not playing? Try here!
Friday, July 31
Does your dog bite?
This sketch always cracks me up and I was able to quote it recently and it's since become a bit of an in-joke among some of my friends. I thought I'd share for those who missed out on Peter Sellers' genius:
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Not loading? Click here!
Saturday, November 1
Going for an English
Earlier this week it was Diwali, the Hindu festival also celebrated by Sikhs, Buddhists and Jains as a Festival of Light, where the lights or lamps signify victory of good over the evil within an individual. This time always reminds me of that excellent comedy programme, Goodness Gracious Me, and arguably one of the best comedy sketches ever... "Going for an English".
The sketch is a parody of that (not so) great British tradition of going "for an Indian" after getting tanked up on far too many beers, ordering the spiciest thing on the menu (but there's always on who plays it safe with omelette and chips) and enough papadums to feed a small country, and making fun of the waiters.
Oh, the advert at the beginning is itself a parody of the awful home-made adverts seen in British cinemas to promote local facilities.
Not loading? Click here!
The sketch is a parody of that (not so) great British tradition of going "for an Indian" after getting tanked up on far too many beers, ordering the spiciest thing on the menu (but there's always on who plays it safe with omelette and chips) and enough papadums to feed a small country, and making fun of the waiters.
Oh, the advert at the beginning is itself a parody of the awful home-made adverts seen in British cinemas to promote local facilities.
Not loading? Click here!
Wednesday, July 9
La Marmotte: event report
Well, what can I say? I'm alive to tell the tale, so that's already something - it lived up to its reputation as the toughest of all cyclosportives and I completed the course, which around 3000 riders failed to do. Mind you, I'm still feeling the effects of the event with a bouts of hypoglycaemia. But let's rewind to the beginning...
I and two friends from my Spinning classes flew out to Geneva on the Thursday, to give us an extra day of preparation before Saturday's big event. One of my friends, Rob, has a chalet in Valmeinier (halfway up the Col du Telegraphe) and we stayed there while we assembled our bikes and tested them out the following morning with a quick climb up the Telegraphe (as one does!). Then we drove out to Alpe d'Huez going over the Telegraphe, through Valloire, over the Col du Galibier, stopping for lunch at the top of the Col du Lautaret - good reconnaisance that would come in handy during the event itself. On our arrival, Richard, who was the only one of us that was an Alpe d'Huez virgin, rode off to find out what all the fuss was about and finished looking like somebody had stuck his head in a microwave. Ha! The Alpe has its mythical reputation for a very valid reason... underestimate it at your peril!
The rest of the Friday was spent preparing the food we'd be taking with us. I estimated I'd burn 7000-8000 calories during the ride, so I'd need to take two days' worth of food if I didn't want to stop at the feed stations (see my post on the Rome marathon as to why I don't rely on them). My shoulder injury had prevented me from riding the bike for the previous three months, so I hadn't tested my energy requirements over a long ride - most of the time, I'd ride for three hours, stop for lunch, and ride back home. So not the ideal preparation for nine hours in the saddle!
On Saturday morning, we woke way too early for a civilised species! Mind you, I couldn't sleep at all, thanks to a humming noise from the nearby ice rink that penetrated even the ear plugs I'd had the foresight to bring. At least the weather had improved to be sunny and dry - so much so that, despite the fresh 7 a.m. air, the ride down to Bourg d'Oisans was rather comfortable. However, by the time we got to the start line, we'd missed our alloted slot and we were waved through by the marshals, past the large group of riders due to start behind us. As our times wouldn't begin until we crossed the start line, this worked in our favour - I'd heard that the mass start would be stressful and prone to accidents. Richard, true to form, shot off out of sight and left Rob and I to ease into the ride towards the first climb of the day.
Col du Glandon
So far, so easy - Rob and I were still riding along at an easy pace with minimal effort. I could keep this up all day! We had agreed to try to stick together most of the way around the course and, if split up, to meet at the feeding station at the top of each climb. When the road started rising upwards, I was still comfortable but soon pulled ahead of Rob without realising it, so I thought I'd keep going and then enjoy the break at the top while waiting for him. On the way to the summit, I managed to get stuck in a cyclists' traffic jam, as after a short downhill stretch the road rose up sharply but nobody had the sense to change gear ahead of time... with the result that everyone slowed to a halt. Grrrrr.... I went "cross-country" at the side of the road and passed the lot of them. Unfortunately, I found another log-jam at the top of the Col, as everyone stopped in the middle of the road for the feeding station. Aaargh! After deciding I'd be better off carrying on and waiting for Rob further on, it still took me 20 minutes just to get through. Bloody cyclists!
Col du Telegraphe
After a technical downhill section from the Glandon - where I was slowed down by an ambulance of all things! - and a long and boring flat section that I got through by drafting in a gruppetto, I reached the bottom of the Telegraphe. Without a friend to ride alongside, I was latching onto one rider on the climb until they started going too slow for me, when I would latch on to another. Eventually I found a rider from the De Ver Cycle Team in London, so we got chatting as we pushed our way past the other riders. Having him as a welcome distraction, I didn't really feel the work my legs were doing and we soon reached the top to find yet more chaos and a 30-man queue for the water refill. At this stage I stopped for various reasons: I had run out of water on the climb as I hadn't refilled on the top of the Glandon; I reckoned I was way ahead of Rob but thought I'd give him a chance to catch up; I was finding it difficult to eat anything, as I was getting stomach cramps. So, after another 30mins, I set off downhill towards the beautiful village of Valloire.
Valloire
Does anybody else still feel like going "wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" when speeding downhill? I certainly did on the way down to Valloire - a nice long, sweeping road without any need to slow down to negotiate dangerous hairpin bends. I had to slow down through the village though, as it was packed full of supercars and everyone slowed to check them out. I saw a nice charcoal grey Ferrari 599 Floriano that made me forget I was barely halfway through the ride and still had to get past the Galibier and Alpe d'Huez. Gulp! Furthermore, the road out of Valloire is at a shallow incline, one of those roads that your brain says is flat but your legs tell you otherwise. Still, I felt good despite not being able to eat anything for a while and could only drink plain water (no energy drinks). While on this slow ascent, I saw a one-armed, one-legged man going fairly well - with his body braced into the saddle and his missing arm braced onto the handlebar, he was doing better than most people and yet using only one leg to pedal... chapeau, my friend, you're a true inspiration.
Col du Galibier
By the time I reached the bottom of the Galibier, my legs were fine but my stomach was starting to feel queasy and I was getting fed up of staying in the saddle (bear in mind that I was not used to sitting for long periods, especially given the lack of riding in the previous three months). So, when I saw a cafe with dozens of French cyclists sitting in the sun, I jumped at the chance to stop and get off the bike. I also tried to easy my stomach with several bottles of Coke and a sandwich, while soaking up the sun and watching other riders take the steep road up the Galibier. While I was enjoying my post-lunch siesta (I am Italian, after all!) an elderly man decide also to stop for a break. Nothing wrong in seeing an older man cycling - there are plenty of old "beardies" that regularly cycle past me on my training rides. However, this guy looked about a hundred years old and could barely push the bike, let alone cycle it up the Galibier. Again, chapeau monsieur!
Right. Time to get off my backside and conquer the Galibier. Shame to leave my spot but I couldn't risk not making the cut-off time at the bottom of Alpe d'Huez... all that effort for nothing! So, after an hour and a half of soft grass, it was time to sit on that saddle again. Ouch! The Galibier starts with a vicious gradient, so it was hard work from the start. Double ouch! Once I got into my rhythm, though, I was making fairly quick progress and passing everybody on the climb. Maybe it was the bottles of Coke, maybe that I was catching up all the slower riders. Either way, I felt like Marco Pantani speeding up to the summit. I knew from driving over it the previous day that there would be a nasty final Km when the gradient became even steeper, so I didn't want to push my luck. By the time I got there, though, I was going so well that I even managed to change up a gear and attack that final Km to the feeding station at the top. The Great Galibier? Pah! Easy peasy lemon squeezy!
Col du Lautaret
After yet more chaos at the feeding station, I pushed on for the long and technical downhill. The gradient drops as sharply as it rose, so I was on my brakes for a fair bit, especially as other riders weren't respecting the racing line (the quickest line through a corner - if someone cuts you up at the wrong time, you're toast). Soon, though, we arrived at the Col du Lautaret - this is where the downhill stretch continued towards Bourg d'Oisans for 40Kms with hardly a hairpin bend. Cue the large chainring and a top speed of 109Kph - woo-hoo!!! I would have done it quicker if it weren't for slow-moving traffic... not cyclists this time but the local drivers. Get out of my way, you slowcoach! Where's the damn horn on this bike....
Alpe d'Huez
I reached Bourg d'Oisans, at the bottom of Alpe d'Huez in pretty good time. I still had a chance at the silver medal based on actual time (my ride time - not including all the stops - was only 7:20). My legs were feeling good and I still had enough water, so I decided to give the feeding station a miss (it was packed, anyway - no time to waste!) and head straight out of Bourg for the road to the Alpe. With still a chance at a good time, I decided I'd attack the climb - my previous best was 1:10 and I'd only need 1:30 to get a silver medal. So I prepared myself by staying in the large chainring and used the momentum gained to overcome the "wall". Opp oppp opppp... change to lowest chainring oppppp... lowest gear... opppppp oh crap, my legs have gone! Yep, I hit the wall in both senses - the wall of Alpe d'Huez and the dreaded hypoglycaemic wall. My lack of food and energy drinks had finally taken their toll - and at a totally inappropriate time!
I managed to make it to the first bend, where I joined dozens of other riders taking a break. While drinking most of the water I had left and trying to eat something, my intuition told me to check my mobile phone. Rob had sent me a message to say he'd been sick on the way up the Telegraphe and had abandoned the race. I sent a text to Richard to relay the message and to say that I'd be taking it slow up the Alpe. Things were starting to get difficult...
The rest of the climb is a bit of a blur. I was riding purely on my stubborness to not be defeated. So long as I had breath in my lungs, I would continue to pedal... albeit at only 35rpm. I made several stops in the shaded parts and at the unofficial water stop just outside Alpe d'Huez. Thank God for these volunteers, one of whom asked if I wanted water poured on me (Oui oui oui!!! Merci beaucoup, monsieur guardian angel). That cold shock also gave me an idea - Rob had joked the previous day about using the small waterfalls alongside the road to cool off... which is exactly what I and a French rider did. We eventually found a large waterfall and we immersed ourselves completely, lowering our body temp from heat stroke to hypothermia - bliss!
Somehow, I eventually reached the final few Kms when the gradient eased off. Time to ease my way home, right? NO! Time to change to the large chainring and attack! Damned Alpe and damned stomach cramps - I'll show you what I could've done. I passed everyone else, who at this stage where nursing their way home, and pushed hard for the line. As the pro climbers say, when asked why they ride the mountains so hard, the sooner this pain was over, the better. As I crossed the line, one of the marshals tried to direct me to one side but I was almost unconscious at this point. Luckily, Richard and Rob had been waiting for me at the line (thanks, guys!) and grabbed the bike from me before I could fall over. I couldn't really focus that well, so I was glad for their help. Apparently, my face on the line was the worst they'd seen in the time they'd been waiting and they were rather worried about my health - I didn't feel too good either!
That night, after endless drinks and a nice stodgy pizza, they were glad to see that my eyes were looking better - apparently, I had several dark spots in them... not a good sign. On top of that, I was left with heat stroke, saddle rash, a boil, stiff shoulders, a constant thirst that wouldn't go away until a week later... but my legs were fine!
Would I do it again? Well, I've already checked out the website and marked next year's date in my calendar. I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll get you next time, Alpe d'Huez! Grrrrr....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is the best video I've found for you to get an idea of the route, scenery, numbers of riders and camaraderie of the event. Despite the hard effort involved, it's worth doing at least once in your life - join me next year!
Not loading? Click here!
I and two friends from my Spinning classes flew out to Geneva on the Thursday, to give us an extra day of preparation before Saturday's big event. One of my friends, Rob, has a chalet in Valmeinier (halfway up the Col du Telegraphe) and we stayed there while we assembled our bikes and tested them out the following morning with a quick climb up the Telegraphe (as one does!). Then we drove out to Alpe d'Huez going over the Telegraphe, through Valloire, over the Col du Galibier, stopping for lunch at the top of the Col du Lautaret - good reconnaisance that would come in handy during the event itself. On our arrival, Richard, who was the only one of us that was an Alpe d'Huez virgin, rode off to find out what all the fuss was about and finished looking like somebody had stuck his head in a microwave. Ha! The Alpe has its mythical reputation for a very valid reason... underestimate it at your peril!
The rest of the Friday was spent preparing the food we'd be taking with us. I estimated I'd burn 7000-8000 calories during the ride, so I'd need to take two days' worth of food if I didn't want to stop at the feed stations (see my post on the Rome marathon as to why I don't rely on them). My shoulder injury had prevented me from riding the bike for the previous three months, so I hadn't tested my energy requirements over a long ride - most of the time, I'd ride for three hours, stop for lunch, and ride back home. So not the ideal preparation for nine hours in the saddle!
On Saturday morning, we woke way too early for a civilised species! Mind you, I couldn't sleep at all, thanks to a humming noise from the nearby ice rink that penetrated even the ear plugs I'd had the foresight to bring. At least the weather had improved to be sunny and dry - so much so that, despite the fresh 7 a.m. air, the ride down to Bourg d'Oisans was rather comfortable. However, by the time we got to the start line, we'd missed our alloted slot and we were waved through by the marshals, past the large group of riders due to start behind us. As our times wouldn't begin until we crossed the start line, this worked in our favour - I'd heard that the mass start would be stressful and prone to accidents. Richard, true to form, shot off out of sight and left Rob and I to ease into the ride towards the first climb of the day.
Col du Glandon
So far, so easy - Rob and I were still riding along at an easy pace with minimal effort. I could keep this up all day! We had agreed to try to stick together most of the way around the course and, if split up, to meet at the feeding station at the top of each climb. When the road started rising upwards, I was still comfortable but soon pulled ahead of Rob without realising it, so I thought I'd keep going and then enjoy the break at the top while waiting for him. On the way to the summit, I managed to get stuck in a cyclists' traffic jam, as after a short downhill stretch the road rose up sharply but nobody had the sense to change gear ahead of time... with the result that everyone slowed to a halt. Grrrrr.... I went "cross-country" at the side of the road and passed the lot of them. Unfortunately, I found another log-jam at the top of the Col, as everyone stopped in the middle of the road for the feeding station. Aaargh! After deciding I'd be better off carrying on and waiting for Rob further on, it still took me 20 minutes just to get through. Bloody cyclists!
Col du Telegraphe
After a technical downhill section from the Glandon - where I was slowed down by an ambulance of all things! - and a long and boring flat section that I got through by drafting in a gruppetto, I reached the bottom of the Telegraphe. Without a friend to ride alongside, I was latching onto one rider on the climb until they started going too slow for me, when I would latch on to another. Eventually I found a rider from the De Ver Cycle Team in London, so we got chatting as we pushed our way past the other riders. Having him as a welcome distraction, I didn't really feel the work my legs were doing and we soon reached the top to find yet more chaos and a 30-man queue for the water refill. At this stage I stopped for various reasons: I had run out of water on the climb as I hadn't refilled on the top of the Glandon; I reckoned I was way ahead of Rob but thought I'd give him a chance to catch up; I was finding it difficult to eat anything, as I was getting stomach cramps. So, after another 30mins, I set off downhill towards the beautiful village of Valloire.
Valloire
Does anybody else still feel like going "wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" when speeding downhill? I certainly did on the way down to Valloire - a nice long, sweeping road without any need to slow down to negotiate dangerous hairpin bends. I had to slow down through the village though, as it was packed full of supercars and everyone slowed to check them out. I saw a nice charcoal grey Ferrari 599 Floriano that made me forget I was barely halfway through the ride and still had to get past the Galibier and Alpe d'Huez. Gulp! Furthermore, the road out of Valloire is at a shallow incline, one of those roads that your brain says is flat but your legs tell you otherwise. Still, I felt good despite not being able to eat anything for a while and could only drink plain water (no energy drinks). While on this slow ascent, I saw a one-armed, one-legged man going fairly well - with his body braced into the saddle and his missing arm braced onto the handlebar, he was doing better than most people and yet using only one leg to pedal... chapeau, my friend, you're a true inspiration.
Col du Galibier
By the time I reached the bottom of the Galibier, my legs were fine but my stomach was starting to feel queasy and I was getting fed up of staying in the saddle (bear in mind that I was not used to sitting for long periods, especially given the lack of riding in the previous three months). So, when I saw a cafe with dozens of French cyclists sitting in the sun, I jumped at the chance to stop and get off the bike. I also tried to easy my stomach with several bottles of Coke and a sandwich, while soaking up the sun and watching other riders take the steep road up the Galibier. While I was enjoying my post-lunch siesta (I am Italian, after all!) an elderly man decide also to stop for a break. Nothing wrong in seeing an older man cycling - there are plenty of old "beardies" that regularly cycle past me on my training rides. However, this guy looked about a hundred years old and could barely push the bike, let alone cycle it up the Galibier. Again, chapeau monsieur!
Right. Time to get off my backside and conquer the Galibier. Shame to leave my spot but I couldn't risk not making the cut-off time at the bottom of Alpe d'Huez... all that effort for nothing! So, after an hour and a half of soft grass, it was time to sit on that saddle again. Ouch! The Galibier starts with a vicious gradient, so it was hard work from the start. Double ouch! Once I got into my rhythm, though, I was making fairly quick progress and passing everybody on the climb. Maybe it was the bottles of Coke, maybe that I was catching up all the slower riders. Either way, I felt like Marco Pantani speeding up to the summit. I knew from driving over it the previous day that there would be a nasty final Km when the gradient became even steeper, so I didn't want to push my luck. By the time I got there, though, I was going so well that I even managed to change up a gear and attack that final Km to the feeding station at the top. The Great Galibier? Pah! Easy peasy lemon squeezy!
Col du Lautaret
After yet more chaos at the feeding station, I pushed on for the long and technical downhill. The gradient drops as sharply as it rose, so I was on my brakes for a fair bit, especially as other riders weren't respecting the racing line (the quickest line through a corner - if someone cuts you up at the wrong time, you're toast). Soon, though, we arrived at the Col du Lautaret - this is where the downhill stretch continued towards Bourg d'Oisans for 40Kms with hardly a hairpin bend. Cue the large chainring and a top speed of 109Kph - woo-hoo!!! I would have done it quicker if it weren't for slow-moving traffic... not cyclists this time but the local drivers. Get out of my way, you slowcoach! Where's the damn horn on this bike....
Alpe d'Huez
I reached Bourg d'Oisans, at the bottom of Alpe d'Huez in pretty good time. I still had a chance at the silver medal based on actual time (my ride time - not including all the stops - was only 7:20). My legs were feeling good and I still had enough water, so I decided to give the feeding station a miss (it was packed, anyway - no time to waste!) and head straight out of Bourg for the road to the Alpe. With still a chance at a good time, I decided I'd attack the climb - my previous best was 1:10 and I'd only need 1:30 to get a silver medal. So I prepared myself by staying in the large chainring and used the momentum gained to overcome the "wall". Opp oppp opppp... change to lowest chainring oppppp... lowest gear... opppppp oh crap, my legs have gone! Yep, I hit the wall in both senses - the wall of Alpe d'Huez and the dreaded hypoglycaemic wall. My lack of food and energy drinks had finally taken their toll - and at a totally inappropriate time!
I managed to make it to the first bend, where I joined dozens of other riders taking a break. While drinking most of the water I had left and trying to eat something, my intuition told me to check my mobile phone. Rob had sent me a message to say he'd been sick on the way up the Telegraphe and had abandoned the race. I sent a text to Richard to relay the message and to say that I'd be taking it slow up the Alpe. Things were starting to get difficult...
The rest of the climb is a bit of a blur. I was riding purely on my stubborness to not be defeated. So long as I had breath in my lungs, I would continue to pedal... albeit at only 35rpm. I made several stops in the shaded parts and at the unofficial water stop just outside Alpe d'Huez. Thank God for these volunteers, one of whom asked if I wanted water poured on me (Oui oui oui!!! Merci beaucoup, monsieur guardian angel). That cold shock also gave me an idea - Rob had joked the previous day about using the small waterfalls alongside the road to cool off... which is exactly what I and a French rider did. We eventually found a large waterfall and we immersed ourselves completely, lowering our body temp from heat stroke to hypothermia - bliss!
Somehow, I eventually reached the final few Kms when the gradient eased off. Time to ease my way home, right? NO! Time to change to the large chainring and attack! Damned Alpe and damned stomach cramps - I'll show you what I could've done. I passed everyone else, who at this stage where nursing their way home, and pushed hard for the line. As the pro climbers say, when asked why they ride the mountains so hard, the sooner this pain was over, the better. As I crossed the line, one of the marshals tried to direct me to one side but I was almost unconscious at this point. Luckily, Richard and Rob had been waiting for me at the line (thanks, guys!) and grabbed the bike from me before I could fall over. I couldn't really focus that well, so I was glad for their help. Apparently, my face on the line was the worst they'd seen in the time they'd been waiting and they were rather worried about my health - I didn't feel too good either!
That night, after endless drinks and a nice stodgy pizza, they were glad to see that my eyes were looking better - apparently, I had several dark spots in them... not a good sign. On top of that, I was left with heat stroke, saddle rash, a boil, stiff shoulders, a constant thirst that wouldn't go away until a week later... but my legs were fine!
Would I do it again? Well, I've already checked out the website and marked next year's date in my calendar. I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll get you next time, Alpe d'Huez! Grrrrr....
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is the best video I've found for you to get an idea of the route, scenery, numbers of riders and camaraderie of the event. Despite the hard effort involved, it's worth doing at least once in your life - join me next year!
Not loading? Click here!
Thursday, May 22
Why did I quit my job?
I've been asked many times lately why I left my cushy 9-to-5 desk job in central government, especially given the perks the job entails: flexible working and hours, final salary pension, and no chance of ever losing my job unless I murdered my boss (even then, probably only if it happened on government premises!). I always believed that one of four things must be present to stay in a job: good money, good prospects, good working environment (location, people, etc.), good work. Government has never been a place to make money - unless you're a consultant - and prospects were minimal given budget cuts. The environment had been steadily getting worse and the work that I loved doing (protecting the international environment) had been taken away from me.
As I was looking around for options - transfer to another post, Department, job, even country - the opportunity to take voluntary redundancy came up. They offered me just under £30K to leave. I had calculated my basic spend including mortgage payments and, with the income I was getting from my regular Spinning classes, the money would be enough to last me another ten years. Well worth the risk, given I had ten years to get my fitness business profitable before having to get another job. So they showed me the money, I took it and left without turning back. Ultimately, the choice was about my state of mind... my happiness, if you will. That has no price, in my book - I'm just lucky I had the opportunity to make a break for it and to be in a position to afford it.
After I left, I saw this video - it touched all the right buttons, as it was exactly how I was feeling every day. If you have the opportunity, don't hesitate to make that change - a life not lived is worse than no life at all.
Not loading? Click here!
As I was looking around for options - transfer to another post, Department, job, even country - the opportunity to take voluntary redundancy came up. They offered me just under £30K to leave. I had calculated my basic spend including mortgage payments and, with the income I was getting from my regular Spinning classes, the money would be enough to last me another ten years. Well worth the risk, given I had ten years to get my fitness business profitable before having to get another job. So they showed me the money, I took it and left without turning back. Ultimately, the choice was about my state of mind... my happiness, if you will. That has no price, in my book - I'm just lucky I had the opportunity to make a break for it and to be in a position to afford it.
After I left, I saw this video - it touched all the right buttons, as it was exactly how I was feeling every day. If you have the opportunity, don't hesitate to make that change - a life not lived is worse than no life at all.
Not loading? Click here!
Saturday, April 12
The BadAss Wombles of Central Park!
Yo! Wombles in the 'hood!
I've just seen this campaign on this morning's BBC News and it's the best laugh I've had in ages.
The problem is that only 1% of new children's programmes are made in the UK and that naturally impacts onto our language and culture. As a way of illustrating this, PACT (the Producers Alliance for Cinema and Television) produced this gem to a launch their new campaign.
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The only thing I would add, to show how much our language has already been influenced by imported TV, is to correct Great Uncle Bulgaria - they're called "children", not "kids"!
And what IS a "fannypack"? Sounds like a box of Kotex/Allways Ultra...
I've just seen this campaign on this morning's BBC News and it's the best laugh I've had in ages.
The problem is that only 1% of new children's programmes are made in the UK and that naturally impacts onto our language and culture. As a way of illustrating this, PACT (the Producers Alliance for Cinema and Television) produced this gem to a launch their new campaign.
Not loading? Click here!
The only thing I would add, to show how much our language has already been influenced by imported TV, is to correct Great Uncle Bulgaria - they're called "children", not "kids"!
And what IS a "fannypack"? Sounds like a box of Kotex/Allways Ultra...
Thursday, March 27
Business cards
I can't believe it's been two weeks already since my last post! I've been teaching a lot of spinning classes lately, as word has spread that I'm available to cover daytime classes since I gave up my desk job. I've also upped my training to about 15 hours a week (still not nearly enough but I haven't even started running yet) - I've been able to fit it in around my classes, so it's kept me busy most days.
Ideally, I'd like to have regular daytime classes; aside from the steady income it would bring, it's also better for the members - I've noticed that the ones who attend on a regular basis have become fitter and stronger, as I've been able to plan their training across the year.
As a first step on getting more cover work and, eventually, more regular classes, I played around with Photoshop and drew up my own business cards to make it easier to ply for business. Less than a week after sending the design to an online card company, they arrived this morning... and I have to say they are the badger's nadgers. Or the mutt's nuts. Blue, laminated... I even put in a watermark!
Which reminded me of this clip, from American Psycho:
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Ideally, I'd like to have regular daytime classes; aside from the steady income it would bring, it's also better for the members - I've noticed that the ones who attend on a regular basis have become fitter and stronger, as I've been able to plan their training across the year.
As a first step on getting more cover work and, eventually, more regular classes, I played around with Photoshop and drew up my own business cards to make it easier to ply for business. Less than a week after sending the design to an online card company, they arrived this morning... and I have to say they are the badger's nadgers. Or the mutt's nuts. Blue, laminated... I even put in a watermark!
Which reminded me of this clip, from American Psycho:
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Saturday, December 29
I want to get my fat arse back in the gym!
After a week of no exercise whatsoever, luckily without resorting to eating more food than Fatty Arbuckle could ever eat, I can't wait to get back into the gym and to my classes - I've even resorted to searching for Spinning classes on YouTube, which led me on to this gem of a video.
Think I work you hard? Check out this guy! And don't worry, I won't be so sadistic... until after Easter hehehehe
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Think I work you hard? Check out this guy! And don't worry, I won't be so sadistic... until after Easter hehehehe
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Tuesday, December 25
Bahia - the most beautiful place in the world?
Not only is Brasil full of probably the nicest people in the world, when I was there in 2005 I saw this advert that summed up why Bahia is the best place in Brasil. I have to agree, as it has none of the grey of Sao Paulo, none of the crime of Rio de Janeiro; Belo Horizonte came close but it doesn't have the sea or the beach. If you've been there, you'll be sighing and wishing you were there right now!
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Sunday, September 16
Work is the thief of time
Ever feel like work gets in the way of life? Me, every day - probably why I sympathise so much with this guy:
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Thursday, September 6
Requiescat in pace, Luciano
I don't know what to say but a comment from a guy interviewed on the news sums up the contribution Luciano Pavarotti has made: "I didn't even like opera until I heard Pavarotti sing at the World Cup"
Thank you Luciano for bringing some added culture to this island - you will be sorely missed.
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Thank you Luciano for bringing some added culture to this island - you will be sorely missed.
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Friday, August 31
Running season begins again
After I ran the Rome marathon, my running dropped substantially. Apparently, it's a normal reaction after such an effort but I did find it hard to run more than twice a week without another major goal on the horizon, even though I enjoy it. I managed to get into a routine of running before or after one of my classes, especially as there is nice mile-long loop in the park near the gym in Kidbrooke, but still never anything over 10Km.
With the wet autumn evenings approaching (still no sign of a summer here in the UK) I feel like it's a natural time to start increasing my training load. I can increase the time spent running by only around 10% if I want to prevent injury, so it'll take me a while yet before I get back up to a 45-min interval session, a 1-hour tempo run and a long 2-hour run at the weekend. But it still feels great to be back out there pounding the pavement... all I need is to enter a spring marathon to help me focus (imminent hanging sharpens a man's wits!)
Talking of wet autumn runs:
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With the wet autumn evenings approaching (still no sign of a summer here in the UK) I feel like it's a natural time to start increasing my training load. I can increase the time spent running by only around 10% if I want to prevent injury, so it'll take me a while yet before I get back up to a 45-min interval session, a 1-hour tempo run and a long 2-hour run at the weekend. But it still feels great to be back out there pounding the pavement... all I need is to enter a spring marathon to help me focus (imminent hanging sharpens a man's wits!)
Talking of wet autumn runs:
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Thursday, July 19
The meaning of determination
Have you ever wanted to give up because something's too hard, the conditions aren't right, people are against you, you're told it's impossible, that it cannot be done? Or maybe you just tell yourself that you didn't really want it anyway?
Whenever I feel like that, I remember this short clip - it gets me to keep on going until that little voice in my head starts whispering that I can do it, no matter what anyone says.
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Whenever I feel like that, I remember this short clip - it gets me to keep on going until that little voice in my head starts whispering that I can do it, no matter what anyone says.
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Thursday, July 12
Exercise could save your life!
Advert time again, although you may not have seen this one on TV - it was banned, for some reason (that will get you watching hehehehe!)
I'm always being asked why I exercise. Instead of the usual reasons - endorphine rush, feeling of achievement, health, better able to cope with life's obstacles, etc. - maybe I should just show them this and say that I'm in training for the day when my life will be in danger.
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I'm always being asked why I exercise. Instead of the usual reasons - endorphine rush, feeling of achievement, health, better able to cope with life's obstacles, etc. - maybe I should just show them this and say that I'm in training for the day when my life will be in danger.
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Sunday, July 1
V is for Volvic
Raaaa! Whatcha doing Mister VolcAAAAAAno?
You'll find this much funnier if you grew up with Sesame Street!
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I'm off to eat someone's parents!
You'll find this much funnier if you grew up with Sesame Street!
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I'm off to eat someone's parents!
Wednesday, June 27
One for the birds!
Raaaaa! Volvic advert time again!
This time, George the volcano is making it tasty for the ladieeeees.
His birds like a twist with their wateeeerrrr....
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I'M THE DADDY NOW!!!!!!
This time, George the volcano is making it tasty for the ladieeeees.
His birds like a twist with their wateeeerrrr....
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I'M THE DADDY NOW!!!!!!
Come on world, I'll have you for breakfast!
Raaaaaaaaa! You've probably seen this, one of the funniest adverts I've seen in a long time.
It'll grab you by the conkers and make you want to shout "come on world, I'll have you for breakfast!"
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It'll grab you by the conkers and make you want to shout "come on world, I'll have you for breakfast!"
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