This morning my friend Bekka
was back again after a poorly spell so we were able to work together on our
swim set which is so much easier that working of your own, especially since she
swims in front of me so that by hanging on to her feet I can just about crawl
in on the times that Steve had set us. She had to fly off to work pretty smart-ish
which left me with my backstroke set that I always like to finish on. I
generally try to concentrate on one aspect of the stroke whilst still keeping
up a reasonable pace. This morning I worked on checking my arms were performing
a nice pull and push down the side of my body and not an old fashioned straight
arm oar-like rowing stroke.
After our swim, Steve and I
drove up the couple of miles to Arundel to do a 5km run, that being one lap of
the course in the Arundel triathlon. As we got to the top of the hill in the
car, before dropping down to river level and the town, we were completely awe struck
by the beauty of the town that lay before us. It is always a great sight to crest
the hill and see the Castle, the Parish and Priory church of St Nicholas and
the huge Cathedral all sitting up on the hill there looking so grand in the
morning light.
Today it was an even more
remarkable sight since there was a glorious winter orange glow over the whole
scene and the windows of the castle sparkling as they only do at just the
perfect moment as the sun rises above the woodland. It is one of those
pleasures that only last for a few minutes and then it is gone.
The orange glow managed to
last for most of our run though and the grounds looked amazing as we gradually
climbed to the high point just by the Hiorne Tower
before completing the loop past the cathedral and down the High Street to just
past the War Memorial where we end that 5km.
After running we were just
in time as the manager of Osteria turned the sign round from closed to open.
While we had a coffee and glanced through the papers sitting in the window of
the coffee shop I told Steve that I was really fed up with meeting people that
I had not seen in a while who are so short of conversation that all they ever
say to me is “Are you still doing all that mad sport stuff”, and after a few
polite exchanges turn to continue on their way saying as a parting shot “You’re
mad you are”.
I don’t think it’s a very
nice thing to say to me, and I tend to have to bite my tongue because I don’t
think that I am mad just because I like to go swimming and do so a little more
seriously than some. That is why people think swimming is boring if you ask me,
because there is not any structure to their swimming, whereas I always have a
schedule to work to and still manage to think of other things while I am
swimming or sing in my head while I swim. It is never boring. I enjoy it and
yes I do work at it, trying not to get any slower than age itself is causing me
to be.
Then again, I don’t think
that I am, as often accused of being, ‘A Nutcase’, because I love to run in the
woods and over the downs. I love nature and adore all the trees, plants,
animals and birds. Riding my bike at seventy seven does not make me a ‘Fruit Cake’
either, as was shown last week when the French cyclist Robert Marchand broke
his own world hour record at a hundred and five years old.
Putting all three of my
split sports together and wanting to take part in a triathlon must have me
marked by those un-thinking people as seriously deranged then. I like it and I
will do it as long as I am able and will not take being told that it is about
time I retired. When it stops being fun will be the time for that, when I don’t
reach the finish line with a stupid grin from ear to ear and feeling tired but
elated. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
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