The Squash Racquet

The interweb is awesome, it's full of stuff that's really useful if you want to run a race that is longer than a marathon. There's this thing called 'runners world', another called 'ultramarathon running.com' along with a whole bunch of others. But you'll have to ask google for those as I really want to talk about my latest investment. It's nearly a metre long and about 20 centimetres wide. It has a really neat handle; And I've called her Beryl. A lovely name for a lovely girl. Now, even though she may be pre-loved and a little worn around the grips, I think we'll get along just fine. I found her on the interweb, the idea to search her out also came from that magical thing. I had been looking to find some information on how to train for running a very long way and most of the information I could find said that running as training was fine and dandy, in fact it was actively encouraged, but it was important to do things that weren't just running. Now the game that comes to my mind when you talk about keeping or gaining fitness is squash. It might be surprising to find that a game played in a relatively small room would be so good for your, and hopefully my, fitness levels.

The secret, I believe, lies in the ball. A small piece of rubber, hollow of course, that is about 25 grams in weight. These rubber missiles are fired, with the aid of the racquet, towards a wall at the other end of the room by the serving player, the receiving player must then hit it back at the aforementioned wall. There is a line on the wall that the balls must hit above. The pace of the ball when it bounces back requires the players to move fast to return the ball to the wall. I have never played squash, and so am looking forward to playing. I do however have one small problem that I need to solve before I can begin. I have nobody to play with. In the words of the incomparable Kim Jong-il 'I'm so ronery'. So, if you would like a game of squash seek me out. Or, alternatively, just leave me a message here. Perhaps you might be able to teach me how to play. Unfortunately Beryl is an only child at this stage, so you would need your own equipment.

Monday

Monday. Another day, another dollar for all you working types; for me though, it was just the same as a Sunday only with a one hour class. Today we learnt that there would be a test on Thursday, what a delightful lesson. So once that was done I went and picked up my squash racquet and then when I got home I had brunch and laced up those running shoes. They seemed rather happy today, may have had something to do with the whole 'not even 24 hours since they were last laced' thing. So, I was there on the road, just jogging my nice happy jog - read this as my normal unfit running sounds 'puff, puff, wheeze, pant, puff, wheeze' - when I felt this little twinge in my left leg, low in my left leg. Below the knee, below the calf but above the achilles. Nothing too unusual about that, was my first thought, just the usual discomfort of running. The twinge got stronger. In short, my run/walk of today turned into a walk/run. Once I hobbled my way home(I say hobbled but there wasn't really any pain, just a tweaking of the muscle with every step) I found I had to ask Dr Google. I have always found this Dr to be the most knowledgeable and, most importantly, the cheapest.  Now, Dr Google had this to say 'you have a serious issue with your soleus'. Actually, I think he meant 'it's no problem just take it easy' and so that's what I have determined to do. Stretch the soleus muscle before, during and after my daily run. Another thing that is happening today is that my brother is arriving from Australia, the land of Islamophobes and anti-Semites, for a short stay. During this short stay I believe it will be necessary for us to go on a run together. It didn't happen when my other brother was up from The Mainland, so I should put more of an effort into it this time. I don't believe I have mentioned this before, but the intention is for the three of us to run this short desert race. I shall explain in a further post.

The slight lifting of the clouds of apathy

It happened this morning, I raised my head up off the pillow and looked puzzled at this strange shimmering light that was playing over my bed. It was, of course, the sun. If you are here in Wellington you will recall that for nearly the last week grey clouds have stretched to cover the entire expanse of our sky. Not only this, they brought with them all manner of foul beasts. A light spattering of rain was one, followed by that slightly heavier dribble overnight(you might not have noticed this, as you should have been sleeping[or intoxicated]). Throughout all these tears of god came that for which Windy Wellington was named. Yes, The Wind. Not just any wind, The Wind of Wellington; It doesn't just blow, it blows from many different directions and all at one time. Now that you see what I have been enduring for nearly the last week I think you can understand why this apathy was such a hard thing to shrug. This morning though, a Sunday, I succeeded. I woke early, well, before lunch time; and leapt out of bed with the covers falling to the floor behind me. When I say this I mean I kind of rolled and hit the floor, barely getting my feet beneath me, and ambled to the kitchen to find coffee. Of course this was after I noticed the beauty of the sun then, while waiting for coffee, I think I decided to go for a run. I say 'I think' because I can't be sure as I was in that 'somewhere' state that exists between coffee and life. Anyway, that's how I managed to banish the apathy. For today at least.

Once I'd managed to deal with that whole apathy episode, you'd think going for a run was going to be just as easy as strapping on those running shoes, you know, those ones with the continuous scowl? Yeah, them. It should really be that easy. If it was a cartoon it perhaps would. Just strap those puppies on, at this point they would give a happy little bark the camera comes in for a close up(of a drawing?) and then I would start running. Perhaps to face my nemesis, some evil guy in dark purple armour with red glowing eyes, at about the half way mark. But I'm not in a cartoon. If I was then training would not be necessary, I would be able to just turn up at the starting line and, because I am the good guy, I would be able to not just run the Marathon de Sade(I'm trying to humanize the event, but that's another post) but I would also be able to win. Never mind I would be racing against locals that have lived in the desert for their entire lives, perhaps fighting and struggling to survive, where I've only been fighting and struggling with my waist line. Anyway, I ramble. The point is that as soon as I threw off the cloud of apathy I had to contend with the mist of procrastination. This meant that I spent my entire day studying instead of going for a run. Until 20 minutes or so ago when I asked my wife if I was able to just not go for a run and got a firm NO in reply. Instantly the mist of procrastination was cleared and I could see exactly where those scowling running shoes were sitting. Now I've just put them back in their homes and I swear I could see something else in their eyes this time. It looked a little like the gentle spark of innocent hope.

Apathy.

It's happened. I've found it again. My apathy, I thought I had lost it. You might not believe this, as I haven't said anything about it but prior to this week I was still going for run's. Not daily, but there were still runs. Every two days or so I would strap on my shoes pull on my shirts and slip into a dirty old tee, not necessarily in that order, head out the door and up the road. But it's been a week now. My shoes are sitting by the door and scowling at me whenever they hear my feet walk past. I don't like it. I could use all the normal excuses, well most of them anyway. Seeing as how I'm a student I can't really use the whole work got in the way line. I , however, say that I was completely focused on my future life and income. But that would be a lie, and after the words had passed my lips my shoes would be still sitting at that door, scowling at me. It wouldn't be a complete lie, however, as I have been learning that the Aztec religion was somewhat interesting. Yes, I realise that doesn't help me towards my goals so much. I could also blame my excessive apathy on the wonderful Wellington weather, but that also would be a lie. I have a shirt that is made out of this stuff called  polypropylene. Most commonly found in living hinges it also makes a nifty 'keep warm' shirt. It works well in the wet of wellington I'm told. I also have a jersey lying around at home somewhere that I could, conceivably, use to keep warm on my return. These great excuses that I have really amount to just that. A simple excuse that can be debunked easily. As such I believe all I really need to do is just step into those lonely running shoes, pull on that sweat stained shirt, slip my very attractive legs into some tight, short running shorts(which I don't have by the way) and step across my threshold. Lifting one leg, then lifting the other. A simple way to travel really. I shall begin again. Tomorrow.

My Birthday Gift

I am a very special individual. It's not only my mother that tells me this, and the fact that I am special is not related at all to my cognitive function. It is, however related to my age. You see I am only eight. Yes, I age four times slower than anyone else. No, it's not a blessing. I have been on the receiving end of countless jokes and teases but perhaps the most hurtful thing of all is the guffaw. Yes, the guffaw. Conversations about my birthday generally go this way: 'your how old?' '8' 'I don't believe you!' 'no, really, look' 'guffaw, so you only get how many birthdays?' That's the guffaw. I don't like it. Ah, the trials of being a leapling. Yes, automatic spell checky guy, that is a word. Not too sure about 'checky' though. This is only the third post and I'm already achieving an exceptional amount of waffle. Anyway, Birthday gift. Mine. From my brother, who has also decided to run through the Moroccan desert, I received a Camelbak. Actually it wasn't a Camelbak, as that would imply that it was made by the Camelbak company, instead it was a camel back. Made by Osprey it contains a two litre bladder and two pockets. Most excellent for training purposes, although I have yet to use it. I will let you know how it goes when I get to that point. ie when I can run between 10 power poles.

The First Run

  It must be stated that I am incredibly unfit. Until recently I smoked a packet of cigarettes a day. I drank far too much alcohol. And I did no exercise. The perfect candidate for running the Marathon de Sade? I think so. At least I think I can turn myself into the one that makes it over the finish line. That's what I thought as I sat on the edge of my bed and laced up my new running shoes. I had worn these shoes before, but I had no special attachment to them. They were only cheap running shoes after all. It was a windy day, in Wellington. I had decided and so I went. Out the gate and I turned right, uphill. Now you would be forgiven for thinking that I wanted a challenge to begin with and I intended to begin how I would carry on. But you would probably be wrong. In fact you would be wrong, I started on the uphill because I knew it meant I would finish on the downhill. Forward planning, something that I would need for sure to be able to get through the 240 odd kilometre's of Marathon de Sade.

  Anyway, once you're through this waffle, you'll be pleased to know that I eventually managed to run. I managed to run the whole way. Between the first two power poles. In the end I managed to run and walk my way around the whole block, plus a little bit. I started by running four power poles or so and then walking for one, then running another four, and then walking another one. I can tell you the distance that I managed to run that day, however I will not. Ok, but not until the last sentence. Before I manage to wow you with the amazing distance I managed to lug my tubby stomach I want to go into a little detail about what exactly went through my mind as I heaved my massive legs forward one after the other. It started like this 'wow, that's a pretty huh, huh, hard to, huh, huh, breathe, huh, huh, now'. And I was lucky if I could finish the sentence. This is how it went, only the sentences got shorter while I was running between the four power poles and a little longer when I was walking to the next power pole. I did however manage to complete my intended run/walk. It was 2.3 kilometre's long. And that wasn't the last sentence and neither is this. I intend to do the same run again, and again. In time I will be able to do this run without the walking.

It Begins...

My name is Bradley Howes and I live in Wellington, New Zealand, described by Lonely Planet guide books  - 'Wellington is Cool-with-a-capital-C, crammed with more bars, cafes and restaurants per capita than New York, and a slew of gourmet producers including some 10 independent coffee roasteries'. This is where I live. On a hill smack in the middle of the coolest little capital in the world, and I will be here for the next four years, at least, as I struggle to gain high marks in a double degree. The first degree being a Bachelor of Arts(Chinese) and the second being a Bachelor of Teaching. I will be juggling full time study, training runs and my life with my new wife for the foreseeable future.


I have never run. In fact at this very moment, 15:52 on Saturday the 3rd of March, 2012, I hate running. There is nothing I can think of that is more boring, nothing that is harder to maintain an interest in and a long list of things I would rather be doing. This is one of the main reasons behind why I have begun training for the Marathon des Sandes. And perhaps the reason why I will succeed.

Coming in the next week:- My personal statistics - Everything from my weight to my shoe size (including photo's. Yes, that's right, 'plural'); My first training run; My birthday gift; Conversations with my brother's and perhaps more if I get around to it, it is the first week of university after all. I will also, eventually, get to grips with how to use the exceedingly simple blogger website.