"The brain", to (more or less) quote Arnold Schwarzenegger, "is the most important muscle in the body". Let’s ignore concerns that the Governor of California has not exercised his own brain sufficiently to find out what a muscle actually is and go with the principle. Every challenge so far this year has been physical and, as the orienteering demonstrated, my head could do with some work. Which is a long way of saying it’s time to get cerebral.
This is the "get a new qualification" challenge. The rules are simple enough: get a nationally recognised qualification in a subject I have never studied before. Tragically this has ruled out such fascinating topics as lifestyle adviser (personal), primal therapy and mushroom growing - because of the nationally recognised part, not because I have studied them before.
In keeping with student tradition I considered cramming for a month and taking a GCSE but some stupid red tape about syllabuses and coursework made this impossible. However I am reliably informed that a qualification called ASET Level 2 is the equivalent of a GCSE (i.e. easier every year) and so I am going to do one of those. The question is which one? And I do mean that is the question – I am asking you to decide for me. I have put together a shortlist of four subjects and, at the top of this page, there has magically appeared a poll where you can vote for what you think I should study. I don’t care how you choose; it can be what you think is most difficult, what you would most like me to tell you about over a drink (you’re buying, I’m a student) or just the result of shutting your eyes and clicking.
The poll will remain open until the first time I access my blog after finishing Three Men in a Boat. I will start in June and hope to have my ASET Level 2 qualification in [enter name of winning subject here] by no later than the end of August (after all is extra study not what the Summer Holidays were always for?).
Wednesday 30 April 2008
Monday 21 April 2008
Third Challenge - British Orienteering Championship
There is a countdown to the start. -4 minutes: Reset your Emit brikke and confirm your name to an official; I do this like a seasoned professional. -3 minutes: collect your control description sheet; the numbers and symbols might as well be in ancient Egyptian, concern grows. -2 minutes; Review a map of the area that doesn't show the control points; I squint and angle my head hoping this is a magic eye picture and an image of a map as I know it will jump out at me. -1 minute: move to the start line and enter the forest on the 4th beep; [I think] beep [I've made] beep [a big] beep [mistake] BEEP. I run to the bucket that contains the marked map of my course and then into the forest because that is what everybody else is doing.
If I had stopped for 5 minutes and got my head straight, if I had looked at the map properly and taken a bearing, if I had practiced using a compass before the event, then I would still have been standing at the finish tent confirming my retirement two hours later. I would hope, however, that I would have found more than 2 of the 29 control points on my course.
At the risk of stating the obvious the British Orienteering Championship is simply too hard an event for launching an orienteering career. As I ran around this dense, uniform wood the last words I heard the commentator say as I made my way to the start line came back to me "this is a technically very challenging course". I recalled the derogatory comments I had been making to Adam about how the other competitors appeared to come from that section of society that has bog brush hair, wear socks with sandals all year round and where couples sport matching orange wind breakers to Tesco, even in summer. The assembly area looked like a tented village in which these people, fed up with being mocked by our materialistic, celebrity conscious world had escaped to openly discuss train spotting, folk music and weaving your own clothes. I had stepped into their world like an invader believing I could conquer it without understanding it and now I was lost, pathetic, weak and in need of saving by those I had scorned.
"Not stopping, British Championship" was the staccato response of the competitor who looked like Gordon Brown's less stylish little brother when I asked for him to point me to the way out. I now realise that somebody who trains hard to complete events like this should not expect to stop and help some novice who patronisingly thought it would take no more than having the right equipment but at the time I could have punched him, if he wasn't moving over the slippery lichen faster than me. I tried to follow some children on the assumption that their course would not be very long and so they would be near the finish area soon. The suspicion this tactic would have aroused was irrelevant because they bounded on into the forest and vanished like startled deer. I had images of search parties being sent out and Mr Brown finding me, angry I caused him to miss both his personal best and the Antiques Roadshow.
Finally, after an hour and a half of running blind I managed a rational thought. I just needed to head south to meet the main track. I started to walk in the direction I was confident was south, remembered I had a compass, checked that and turned 180 degrees. Soon I was back at the tented village watching pensioners, children and elite athletes crossing the line in triumph. I saw the support being given by those who had come to cheer on friends or family and heard the banter between competitors from all over the UK (and some from even further afield).
Was this a failure? I confess I feel unfulfilled. I allowed myself to get distracted by other competitors rather than do my own thing. I did not do myself justice but failure? No. This was about competing rather than completing. Success was finding the second control point within 5 minutes of finding the first by using the map and compass properly. For that 5 minutes I was an orienteer. Success was discovering the level of skill and dedication required to succeed in a sport that is more challenging than most but lacks glamour and, correspondingly, credibility amongst the public as a whole. Success was having an unforgettable experience. So, thank you to the British Orienteering Championship. I don't plan on demeaning your prestige event again. I will also continue to judge the man on my commute home because of his stain spattered Captain Kirk tie but I will at least realise that he has talents I do not know about and maybe one of them is being able to find control point 3.
If I had stopped for 5 minutes and got my head straight, if I had looked at the map properly and taken a bearing, if I had practiced using a compass before the event, then I would still have been standing at the finish tent confirming my retirement two hours later. I would hope, however, that I would have found more than 2 of the 29 control points on my course.
At the risk of stating the obvious the British Orienteering Championship is simply too hard an event for launching an orienteering career. As I ran around this dense, uniform wood the last words I heard the commentator say as I made my way to the start line came back to me "this is a technically very challenging course". I recalled the derogatory comments I had been making to Adam about how the other competitors appeared to come from that section of society that has bog brush hair, wear socks with sandals all year round and where couples sport matching orange wind breakers to Tesco, even in summer. The assembly area looked like a tented village in which these people, fed up with being mocked by our materialistic, celebrity conscious world had escaped to openly discuss train spotting, folk music and weaving your own clothes. I had stepped into their world like an invader believing I could conquer it without understanding it and now I was lost, pathetic, weak and in need of saving by those I had scorned.
"Not stopping, British Championship" was the staccato response of the competitor who looked like Gordon Brown's less stylish little brother when I asked for him to point me to the way out. I now realise that somebody who trains hard to complete events like this should not expect to stop and help some novice who patronisingly thought it would take no more than having the right equipment but at the time I could have punched him, if he wasn't moving over the slippery lichen faster than me. I tried to follow some children on the assumption that their course would not be very long and so they would be near the finish area soon. The suspicion this tactic would have aroused was irrelevant because they bounded on into the forest and vanished like startled deer. I had images of search parties being sent out and Mr Brown finding me, angry I caused him to miss both his personal best and the Antiques Roadshow.
Finally, after an hour and a half of running blind I managed a rational thought. I just needed to head south to meet the main track. I started to walk in the direction I was confident was south, remembered I had a compass, checked that and turned 180 degrees. Soon I was back at the tented village watching pensioners, children and elite athletes crossing the line in triumph. I saw the support being given by those who had come to cheer on friends or family and heard the banter between competitors from all over the UK (and some from even further afield).
Was this a failure? I confess I feel unfulfilled. I allowed myself to get distracted by other competitors rather than do my own thing. I did not do myself justice but failure? No. This was about competing rather than completing. Success was finding the second control point within 5 minutes of finding the first by using the map and compass properly. For that 5 minutes I was an orienteer. Success was discovering the level of skill and dedication required to succeed in a sport that is more challenging than most but lacks glamour and, correspondingly, credibility amongst the public as a whole. Success was having an unforgettable experience. So, thank you to the British Orienteering Championship. I don't plan on demeaning your prestige event again. I will also continue to judge the man on my commute home because of his stain spattered Captain Kirk tie but I will at least realise that he has talents I do not know about and maybe one of them is being able to find control point 3.
Monday 14 April 2008
North by North East
If, 6 months ago, I had written a list of phrases that I never thought I would publish on a medium that (in theory) could be accessed by anybody in the world “I am a member of an orienteering club” would not have been on it. The notion was simply not on my radar. Yet here I am less than a week from taking part in the British Orienteering Championship in the far north of Scotland. That pretty much sums up what this year is about for me.
This challenge came about solely through my considering what I could take on in April after I was rejected from the London Marathon. I decided it would be nice to take part in a national or even international competition. The idea was easy but it is, not surprisingly, difficult to find a major competition taking place in a particular month that somebody with no experience or reputation in that particular event can take part in. However, you can with the British Orienteering Championship. Don’t ask what inspired me to type that phrase into Google, I don’t remember.
What I do know is that I thought that this one would be easy. Orienteering is just open air, a bit of running and looking at a map so, unless you’re a myopic, club footed agorophobe it can’t be that difficult. Can it? I now realise that, for someone who has never held a compass, let alone used it to read a map in a Scottish wilderness whilst running around a 10 mile course that just seems to comprise of a load of closely growing identical trees, the answer is yes. I am already resigned to coming last but I really don’t fancy getting so lost that search parties are sent out and The Sun publishes a comic paragraph about my stupidity just after the latest revelations about Carla Bruni’s racy past (memo to self – possible new challenge: get an article about self on page 3 of The Sun). It’s not just that I do not actually know what the rules of orienteering are. It’s not just that my sense of direction is appalling. It’s not even that I’m a bit out of practice where running is concerned making 10 miles the absolute limit my legs can handle. The thing is, I am sure my alarmingly expensive brand new compass is pointing North East.
This challenge came about solely through my considering what I could take on in April after I was rejected from the London Marathon. I decided it would be nice to take part in a national or even international competition. The idea was easy but it is, not surprisingly, difficult to find a major competition taking place in a particular month that somebody with no experience or reputation in that particular event can take part in. However, you can with the British Orienteering Championship. Don’t ask what inspired me to type that phrase into Google, I don’t remember.
What I do know is that I thought that this one would be easy. Orienteering is just open air, a bit of running and looking at a map so, unless you’re a myopic, club footed agorophobe it can’t be that difficult. Can it? I now realise that, for someone who has never held a compass, let alone used it to read a map in a Scottish wilderness whilst running around a 10 mile course that just seems to comprise of a load of closely growing identical trees, the answer is yes. I am already resigned to coming last but I really don’t fancy getting so lost that search parties are sent out and The Sun publishes a comic paragraph about my stupidity just after the latest revelations about Carla Bruni’s racy past (memo to self – possible new challenge: get an article about self on page 3 of The Sun). It’s not just that I do not actually know what the rules of orienteering are. It’s not just that my sense of direction is appalling. It’s not even that I’m a bit out of practice where running is concerned making 10 miles the absolute limit my legs can handle. The thing is, I am sure my alarmingly expensive brand new compass is pointing North East.
Wednesday 9 April 2008
Is the future here yet?
Apparently last Wednesday was designated “Fat Wednesday”. Experts claim it is the day that is long enough since New Year’s Day for people to have completely given up on all their resolutions but not close enough to summer for them to worry about starting to work on a beach body. Before I totally dismiss this I should say that I did notice that the gym/swimming pool/streets are less busy than they were before I went to San Francisco. I had assumed that it was a combination of holidays and people not being arsed (also Arsenal v Liverpool was on television). I too found it difficult to start training again. After the Alcatraz swim I took the remaining two weeks off to recover and enjoy my holiday but I am now having trouble preparing for future challenges. Maybe these experts are onto something.
Now to totally dismiss it. I can identify exactly why I am finding it difficult without the aid of a research grant and, I suspect, making facts fit around a conclusion. I am having trouble focusing on how to train. When it was just the swim it was easy, I swam a lot. Now I need to ease back on swimming and replace those sessions with something else – but what? Do I train for orienteering by jogging through a wood holding a map? Do I start training for the rowing by going to the gym and getting on the rowing machine? Do I start training now for the triathlon by cycling more? Probably yes to each of those but then where does the running, swimming and general fitness work fit in? And on top of that I need to organise equipment, travel and accommodation, maybe try to work out some more cerebral challenges and it would be quite nice to fit some work, food and sleep into the day too. I wouldn’t totally dismiss the option of a life either.
At the moment organising this is like trying to squeeze dozens of people into a telephone box (memo to self: possible new challenge – world record attempt at squeezing people into a telephone box). I’m not even sure what I’m doing writing this rubbish when only 1 person is reading it. I could have cycled about a mile by now. Let the experts do something useful and start inventing all the things we were promised by the Jetsons. So Reed, Chen, Games Console men, Hawking, Dyson and Jobs, it’s time to stop making small improvements to perfectly adequate products, stop finding out the secret of the universe or putting videos on the Internet I want my food in tablet form, space ships, exercising without getting out of bed and a robot maid. Also whilst I’m ranting get me a job with Spacely’s Space Sprockets – on 3 hours a day, 3 days a week George could have done a decades worth of challenges and he never seemed to have any trouble funding anything despite the lavish lifestyle of that original WAG wannabe Jane . And as for those Flintstones...
Now to totally dismiss it. I can identify exactly why I am finding it difficult without the aid of a research grant and, I suspect, making facts fit around a conclusion. I am having trouble focusing on how to train. When it was just the swim it was easy, I swam a lot. Now I need to ease back on swimming and replace those sessions with something else – but what? Do I train for orienteering by jogging through a wood holding a map? Do I start training for the rowing by going to the gym and getting on the rowing machine? Do I start training now for the triathlon by cycling more? Probably yes to each of those but then where does the running, swimming and general fitness work fit in? And on top of that I need to organise equipment, travel and accommodation, maybe try to work out some more cerebral challenges and it would be quite nice to fit some work, food and sleep into the day too. I wouldn’t totally dismiss the option of a life either.
At the moment organising this is like trying to squeeze dozens of people into a telephone box (memo to self: possible new challenge – world record attempt at squeezing people into a telephone box). I’m not even sure what I’m doing writing this rubbish when only 1 person is reading it. I could have cycled about a mile by now. Let the experts do something useful and start inventing all the things we were promised by the Jetsons. So Reed, Chen, Games Console men, Hawking, Dyson and Jobs, it’s time to stop making small improvements to perfectly adequate products, stop finding out the secret of the universe or putting videos on the Internet I want my food in tablet form, space ships, exercising without getting out of bed and a robot maid. Also whilst I’m ranting get me a job with Spacely’s Space Sprockets – on 3 hours a day, 3 days a week George could have done a decades worth of challenges and he never seemed to have any trouble funding anything despite the lavish lifestyle of that original WAG wannabe Jane . And as for those Flintstones...
Friday 4 April 2008
Housekeeping
A new challenge - The year could not pass without me entering a major competition so, on 19 April I will be participating in the British Orienteering Championship in the far north of Scotland. I should probably buy a compass. More information to follow soon.
Tough Guy Update - I officially finished 1457th in a time of 2 hours 3 minutes and 17 seconds but see my earlier comment as to the accuracy of timing. A couple of photos of me were taken and these are on the right hand side of the blog on a snazzy slide show.
Alcatraz - I have added some photos to the blog. To read the hilarious captions to them click on the slide show and go to my Picassa web page.
Tough Guy Update - I officially finished 1457th in a time of 2 hours 3 minutes and 17 seconds but see my earlier comment as to the accuracy of timing. A couple of photos of me were taken and these are on the right hand side of the blog on a snazzy slide show.
Alcatraz - I have added some photos to the blog. To read the hilarious captions to them click on the slide show and go to my Picassa web page.
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