Blog No. 1 of 17 (or thereabouts)
A friend of mine laughs in the face of adversity and is just gearing up to go so far as to stalk it for several years. I think he should've called himself Nutter-on-a-Bike, but no, he's the UniCyclist. Because he's on a unicycle? No, because he's going to be at university on a bike. He intends to visit 50 capital cities round Europe, hence his endeavour's called UniCycle50 (http://www.unicycle50.com/). My involvement? I've stupidly volunteered to reach one, yes a whole 'one' of those 50 cities. London. "But that's where you live" you say. No, we're setting off from the headquarters of our weird and wonderful university, The Open University in Milton Keynes.
Steven the UniCyclist is going to cover around 20,000 miles in 3 years, well, more probably ... I just have to do 55 in 1 day. So, having known about this ride for months I've had the chance to do some rigorous training and get really fit for this piffling ride.
So why didn't I?
I do not like exercise. There’s no getting away from it … the fact that I don’t like exercise, I mean. Exercise is very, very easy to get away from. With a boredom threshold of nanoseconds, anything unexciting and repetitive is abandoned within … ooh look, a bench. If the speed is down to me (as in running) I’ll lose interest pretty quickly … give me wheels, skis or blades and I’ll do it. Maybe. Well, I used to … but now? Meh. Gone is the woman who a mere year ago crewed a tall ship, trekked through the Madagascan rainforest and rollerbladed down Oxford Street. She seems to have been replaced by a creature who's a cross between Zelda from Terrahawks and Ron Weasley ... in a body considerably inflated beyond manufacturer's specifications.
There's just over two weeks to go 'til I have to heft my bloated carcass from MK to London. Today, I've begun my onerous training schedule and started this two-week (too weak?) blog. This morning I've pedalled 8 miles to work. It's exciting stuff this cycling lark ... my chain came off, I was stopped by the police and Waitrose tried to kill me. Not with their delicious lard-based comestibles, but their evil little Ocado vans. They tried to squash me like a grotesquely large bug, not once, but twice. How can they possibly know I shop at Asda? Oh, and the police? They were right, I shouldn't have been on the pavement. Tsk.
A friend of mine laughs in the face of adversity and is just gearing up to go so far as to stalk it for several years. I think he should've called himself Nutter-on-a-Bike, but no, he's the UniCyclist. Because he's on a unicycle? No, because he's going to be at university on a bike. He intends to visit 50 capital cities round Europe, hence his endeavour's called UniCycle50 (http://www.unicycle50.com/). My involvement? I've stupidly volunteered to reach one, yes a whole 'one' of those 50 cities. London. "But that's where you live" you say. No, we're setting off from the headquarters of our weird and wonderful university, The Open University in Milton Keynes.
Steven the UniCyclist is going to cover around 20,000 miles in 3 years, well, more probably ... I just have to do 55 in 1 day. So, having known about this ride for months I've had the chance to do some rigorous training and get really fit for this piffling ride.
So why didn't I?
I do not like exercise. There’s no getting away from it … the fact that I don’t like exercise, I mean. Exercise is very, very easy to get away from. With a boredom threshold of nanoseconds, anything unexciting and repetitive is abandoned within … ooh look, a bench. If the speed is down to me (as in running) I’ll lose interest pretty quickly … give me wheels, skis or blades and I’ll do it. Maybe. Well, I used to … but now? Meh. Gone is the woman who a mere year ago crewed a tall ship, trekked through the Madagascan rainforest and rollerbladed down Oxford Street. She seems to have been replaced by a creature who's a cross between Zelda from Terrahawks and Ron Weasley ... in a body considerably inflated beyond manufacturer's specifications.
There's just over two weeks to go 'til I have to heft my bloated carcass from MK to London. Today, I've begun my onerous training schedule and started this two-week (too weak?) blog. This morning I've pedalled 8 miles to work. It's exciting stuff this cycling lark ... my chain came off, I was stopped by the police and Waitrose tried to kill me. Not with their delicious lard-based comestibles, but their evil little Ocado vans. They tried to squash me like a grotesquely large bug, not once, but twice. How can they possibly know I shop at Asda? Oh, and the police? They were right, I shouldn't have been on the pavement. Tsk.
I don’t want to let Steven down, but how the hell am I going to render meself physically capable of this paltry feat in a fortnight? Answers on a Caramac please.
Oh, and why not come along too ...
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/event.php?eid=174564295907447
Oh, and why not come along too ...
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/event.php?eid=174564295907447
No comments:
Post a Comment