cdave: (Default)
Yay! We had a slightly mad tube driver this morning, who'd decided to do all the announcements herself, in a wonderful Irish accent.

"Are you all out yet? Right, then move down inside the carriages. We're ready to shut the doors and get off now."

"Mind the gap at the next station. It's quite big by the first two carriages, and the last one. If you've only got little legs like me, you'll want to be extra careful"

"Thank you for travelling on the Bakerloo line. See you next week."
cdave: (Default)
It wasn't that I was particularly unfit when I was younger. If anything it was the opposite.

You'd hardly have called me a sporting superstar at school. Lanky sums it up quite well. I wasn't thin because I played a lot of sport (and I certainly wasn't thin because of my diet). I was just blessed with a fast metabolism, a propensity to fidget, and a low tolerance for boredom. If I was walking to school, and didn't have anything better to do I'd often just sprint there. Not to that I was keen to get to class, or was cutting things fine again. Just to save the tedium of the walk.

Now when I'd run as a child, I'd practically float. I'd kick off from a standing start with a little jump forward. Then as each foot came down, I touch the floor with my big toe, start flexing my legs, and be on the upwards bounce by the time the balls of my feet made contact. My heels would never touch the floor. It felt almost as though I was gliding across the ground, and just brushing my feet across it occasionally to remind my hips how high they were supposed to be.

The problem with this sort of impromptu running is that I'd obviously never do stretches afterwards. The reason it felt so easy is that it's not exactly using the muscles fully. It's just pulling out the hamstring like an elastic band, and snapping it back. By the time I left Uni my tendons were so tight, the closest I could get to touching my toes was at least a hand span off the floor. And I have big hands.

A couple of years ago I joined a gym. Primarily to increase my stamina and flexibility, but I wouldn't have said no to losing some weight too. Running on a machine, especially for longish periods of time, is a very diffenrent matter to impromptu sprints. For a one thing treadmills are not long enough for to reach my full leg span. So I learned to jog landing on the balls of my feet. Or even on the heel, and to rotate my foot to take off from the ball. On top of that I was given a set of stretches to specifically loosen the hamstring.

I can once again touch my toes, and anytime I do anything like play squash, or go on my cross trainer, I make sure I sneak in least a quick stretch.

Tonight on the way home from the tube, I spotted a bus I could catch to save me walking three stops. I'd not long passed the previous stop and probably didn't stand a chance, but I decided to run for it anyway. And I slipped into the old sprint. And it felt like floating. It was marvelous. The bus was getting away, but I didn't care.

Then a guy at the bus stop stood up and flagged the bus down. As I got there he just smiled, nodded and sat down. It wasn't his bus, but he'd seen that the driver wasn't going to stop, so he'd stopped it for me. I love litte RAoKs like that. They really make my day.
cdave: (Default)
I was standing on the tube recently and half noticed a pregnant lady standing by one of the seats. When the train pulled up at the next stop the guy who had the seat got up to leave, and as she went to sit down she hooked her foot round his and almost sent him flying. I gave her a big thumbs up.

If I shave of the sideburns I've had for this summer, am I going to have white stripes on my face?

Hang on. It's Friday. That's casual dress day. Why am I'm in a suit? Damn.

What's the point of BBCode? It's no less complicated than HTML, and just confuses things.
cdave: (Default)
The tube pulled out of High & I.

I'd given up trying to read the paper. There just wasn't enough room. Even folded in quarters, and held high above the nearest commuter's shoulder. It was rammed in there. I was stuck in the middle of the carriage. There was someone between me and the door, between me and the glass partition, between me and the rear of the carriage, and about three more between me and the ventilation window.

It was hot. And humid. And my waterproof jacket was trapping the heat. So I wriggled a bit and elbowed half a dozen people removing it. Draping it over my left arm, I felt a bit unsteady so grabbed the overhead rail with my right hand, and clutched the paper between my knees.

In fact I was beginning to feel very unsteady. And a little nauseous. I was really grateful for the tiny gusts of cool air that occasionally reached me from the window. I realised I was breathing quite deeply, and loudly through my nose. I decided I was not going to make it to work in one go, and would have to get off at Kings Cross, and sit down for a bit.

But Kings Cross was another few minutes away, and I was really starting to feel the heat. And spots had started swimming in front of my eyes. It was getting harder to catch my breath, and the edges of my vision were stating to go black. I looked at my hand on overhead rail and could see a film of sweat starting to appear. I squatted down on my haunches as that was the closest thing I could do to laying down, and getting the blood back to my head.

The train stopped, and I squeezed past the person by the door, stagered to the benches, sat down and closed my eyes. About 5 or 6 trains later one with some spare seats pulled up, and I got on, and finished travelling into the office.

I haven't had a hangover that bad since new year's. I don't see why it was so bad either. I didn't mix my drinks, stuck to bitters. I had a fair wack of water when I got in, and over 7 hours sleep. Ah well. I feel a bit more human after several cups of coffee, and hot lunch.


cdave: (Default)

May 2017

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