By Bon8
RIGHT, it’s time to shift some of this flab and beef up. Next summer is gunna be huge in London town and opportunity waits for no man.
The Australian Olympic team will be touching down and the twelfth man may just come into play. So I’m not waiting for any New Year’s resolutions, there’s no time to lose, it could be the shot put, or the 100m hurdles or the tennis, who knows, but when the call goes out for back-up, I will be at the front of the queue in all my glory.
Runners at the ready, Speedo’s packed, I’ve even given the knee brace a much needed tub. Yesterday I started the ball rolling with a gentle two mile jog over to a mate’s house to deliver his Chrissie pressie (a jar of Hog Dust for the barbie).
It wasn’t anything too heavy, Barnsey whispering in my ear, mud squelching underfoot, gently does it, until my wallet… where’s my wallet? Focus. Yep I had it 10 minutes ago, I must’ve dropped it. Right – sprint.
That ice filtered breeze blowing past my face and my heart beat drowning out Barnsey as I retraced my steps… There it is, my wallet sitting in the middle of the path – long jump – gold! Victory celebration! Yeeeesss.
OK, wallet, hog dust, keys, iPod and off and running, puffing a bit, puffing a lot, getting dizzy, getting lost, where am I? Yep I am lost… Fast walk until someone looks then jog a bit.
Starting to sweat, hurdle over a couple of puddles, starting to hurt, starting to puff. Time for some Sky Hooks. Bit further. The Chisels are howling now and putting me off my stride. OK where am I? Two miles has turned into four. Finally I drag myself to my mate’s house thinking ‘bloody hell I gotta run back yet’. He was expecting me, but not on foot.
“We’re supposed to be goin’ the pub you fool!” Poor bloke, just had an op, can’t drive, walk or crawl to the pub. I can’t breathe! I’m sweating, legs buckling, luckily my scarf comes in hand to mop my wet neck. He tosses me the keys to his pink Alfa Romeo. ‘Mother of mercy if anyone sees me driving this thing…’
But this is what training is all about. Going past your physical barriers. Mentally taking yourself to new places, challenging yourself. Pushing the boundaries. Doin’ it for ya country. Legs were a bit shaky getting out of the pink mobile but I dragged myself to the bar for a protein shake and that was the best Guinness I had downed in a long time. Until the second one, which was even better!
So my training regime is off to a flyer. I have set myself some difficult goals but we all need to challenge ourselves to be at our best in case the call comes through. And when it does, put ya beer down and do it for ya country because Team GB will be at full strength and there ain’t nothing worse than seeing them above us in the medal tally.
