London Marathon

I have never been to watch a marathon before, and today was no different. I like running them, but the thought of scanning 35,000 people to try and catch a glimpse of Gordon Ramsay just doesn't appeal. Instead, in homage to the great race, I entered my first cross country run in Hampshire. 3 stiles, a ford, and a dairy farm later I finished just behind an old man (pictured). I ran the 11K in 57 minutes which was OK but I had a few issues with my walkman, wearing too many layers and nearly choking on a jelly baby.
When I got home I relaxed with a tea and a copy of The Sunday Times Rich List to discover that a guy I had relations with is on the Young Millionaires list. He shares 20th place, squeezed between Cheryl Cole and Katie Melua. The earth didn't exactly move between us, but perhaps if he had been squeezed next to someone like the artist know as Prince and his 250 millions I would have made the house quake myself.

Yoga

There was a girl handing out leaflets at Shepherds Bush tube station the other day. Normally I swerve anyone offering free calls to Kazakhstan, paint ball bargains from a camouflaged trestle table, or 'Can I ask you a question about your hair' people. The girl was offering a free yoga session, so, in the name of the blog, I took it and had my free session tonight.
The yoga centre was on Uxbridge Road, on the top floor, above a Caribbean fast food restaurant. The room was about the same size as my bedroom i.e. big enough for a double bed and a few nicknack's. There were 7 yoga mats, 5 women, 1 German teacher and me.... The music consisted of a small speaker floating out a female voice singing a 'smooth jazz' version of Bob Marley hits.... There was less of a 'natural mystic flowing through the air', and more of a curry goat and roti .
The lesson was actually quite fun, but the Yogi did say 'its not a competition' at one point when everyone was relaxing in child's pose and I was silently counting myself down from a 2 minute plank that I set myself.... Now that I know it's possible to practice Yoga in a room the size of a postage stamp I think I will just do it in my bedroom from now on, and then I can salute the sun shining out of my competitive arse as much as I like.

NOT swimming The Channel

I have had a fascination with swimming the Channel for about a year now. Its 21 miles, as the crow flies, and the average time it takes is between 10 - 20 hours. It took David Walliams 10 hours 34 minutes.. and 1 more Wiki fact.. less than 1000 people have ever completed it! There is no doubt that I would do it but for my terrifying fear of the sea, slight obstacle....When I am in the sea I have to be able to touch the ground, and any passing seaweed or dark patches of water send me into silent screaming. I've thought about hypnosis, but it will be a waste of 'going under', I get the fear that a shark is on my tail when I'm swimming lengths in a kidney shaped pool. I recently read about a guy called Dan Martin who is about to embark on a Global Triathlon, which includes swimming the Atlantic. Setting off from Nova Scotia with nothing more than his speedos, ginger beard and goggles he is going to swim 8 hours a day for about 4 months until he reaches France. He is going to wear a shark repellent anklet and won't be swimming at dawn or dusk (shark feeding time)...I don't know if Portuguese Man-of-War can kill you but now I've just seen a picture of one I know they will be joining me in the pool next time too. I'm such a WEED!

Howard from The Wirral

I saw a poster the other morning, It was dangling from a bike lock unit (i have no idea what those things you tie bikes to are called??). It was inviting women cyclists to come and visit 'Dr Bike' for a full servicing for FREE! I free servicing, ooh Doctor, yes please. So i cycled to the 'under the Westway' location and was met by a gazebo and 2 hunky guys oiling some chains. The taller of the 2 Dr Bikes said he would be about half an hour and suggested that I go and wait in the leisure centre next door. I asked him if he knew whether the coffee was decent there and he gave a detailed response about how the coffee was motor-way service station standard, needed 6 sugars and that i was better off having tea. I said I would rather cycle to the Deli in Notting Hill to get one, and offered him one. A machiato for Dr Bike and a skinny Cap for me. Howard aka Dr Bike proceeded to spend nearly an hour on my extremely posh bike... Kensington and Chelsea Council, who funded the day, were probably trying to encourage the local estate mums and their bikes out of their high rises, not girls with £1000 Marins from Brakenbury Village... Howard was an absolute perfectionist. 3 pairs of latex gloves later he had tweaked my cables, polished my chain, put spokey dokes on my wheels (remember those!) and been very generous with his lube.... He mentioned the word lube a couple of times during our bike chats, and I am sorry but it is really embarrassing.... all bike shop people say it.. LUBE LUBE LUBE... its gross.. I literally can't say it.. i will say oil, i need it/stuff/thingy for my chain, point at it ,anything... but I will not say the word. He then took my bike seat off to check the seat 'post'... and then he greased it... it was soo embarrassing... i forgot what I was saying I was so put off my train of thought.... and you know when you know someone is reading your mind... I know he knew I was thinking willy thoughts.... ARh, poor Howard from the Wirral being subjected to a morning with a pervy minded girl and her well lubed hybrid.

Go with the FLO POOL

I had my first swimming lesson in a bout 25 years yesterday, but not in any old swimming pool.. i swam in a pool called a FLO POOL, where you swim in a tiny plunge pool, against a current. There are mirrors everywhere so you can watch your style, or in my case, watch everything wobble and see the air bubbling out of your nose as you breath out under water...V strange. My amazing international swimming coach lady pressed a button and the current commenced. She twisted a twisty thing to make the current stronger and I started swimming faster and faster. It was utterly exhausting, and only a week after a marathon was probably a bit more than gentle exercise. I am hooked already... and can feel my swimmers shoulders busting out of my summer spaghetti vests just thinking about it, but hey at least I won't get marathon black toes with my new found sport. If fact the only downsides are having to keep a check on my bikini line and dealing with goggle panda eyes for the rest of the day.