One of the conditions of my Scholarship that helped me to go to America is that I write a formal final report. I hardly lacked material for this - between the blog posts I did on the road, almost a complete notebook of contemporary records and what I still have buzzing around my head I mainly had to think about editing it down to a managable length!
I finally finished it this weekend and sent off to the Trustees so if you fancy over 8000 words of deathless prose then you can read it here.
Monday, 21 January 2013
Monday, 14 January 2013
Running Man
As my biography on this site notes, I am most definitely an occassional runner. I've done a couple of half-marathons but they were five or more years ago - more recently I've been limited to plodding around the occassional 10K. My half marathon times were pretty slow - 2hr 40mins seemed to be my best effort. That said I've lost the thick end of two stones (10.8kg in new money) since then so I'm sure that I'm faster across the tarmac than then.
Being very competitive, when I got wind that some colleagues at work were doing the Rushcliffe 10k this March I couldn't resist getting involved. I'm all paid up and entered and my helpful (read, provocative) colleague left an eight week training schedule on my desk just before Christmas. I studiously ignored this schedule until this morning when I knew that I needed to face into the training or I'd be a sweaty mess on the day (no guarantee that I won't be, but trying to minimise the chances).
My objective come the race is to cover the distance in under an hour so was a little trepidacious this morning not only because of the snow underfoot but also because I'd had a lengthy lay-off since at least before I went to America. For me, going for a run means that I progress through a very curious arc of emotions - something close to: hope; fear; acceptance; enjoyment; fatigue. Making two and three as short as possible and four as long as possible is always the key!
In the end I felt pretty good - managed just under 8.2km (measured thanks to the excellent http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/) in around 55 minutes so the 60 minutes mark for 10k is well within grasp.
Of course, this is all really an excuse for buying a load more kit...
Being very competitive, when I got wind that some colleagues at work were doing the Rushcliffe 10k this March I couldn't resist getting involved. I'm all paid up and entered and my helpful (read, provocative) colleague left an eight week training schedule on my desk just before Christmas. I studiously ignored this schedule until this morning when I knew that I needed to face into the training or I'd be a sweaty mess on the day (no guarantee that I won't be, but trying to minimise the chances).
My objective come the race is to cover the distance in under an hour so was a little trepidacious this morning not only because of the snow underfoot but also because I'd had a lengthy lay-off since at least before I went to America. For me, going for a run means that I progress through a very curious arc of emotions - something close to: hope; fear; acceptance; enjoyment; fatigue. Making two and three as short as possible and four as long as possible is always the key!
In the end I felt pretty good - managed just under 8.2km (measured thanks to the excellent http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/) in around 55 minutes so the 60 minutes mark for 10k is well within grasp.
Of course, this is all really an excuse for buying a load more kit...
Thursday, 3 January 2013
Book Review: Slaying the Badger
(The first in an occasional series of book reviews. This is designed to both get me to read more books and to enable me to write more regularly too. Expect a mix of novels, social history, nerdy science and, just sometimes, sport).
Slaying the Badger by Richard Moore
I was talking with my new boss the other day at Work One (see the footnote here for my distinction between 'Work One' and 'Work Two') about how I like to operate at work, what my values and principles are, all stuff that I love (mainly because it means that I get to talk about myself) and we got to talking about the Tour de France. Now, anyone that follows my Twitter during June and July knows that I'm a huge TDF fan but not everyone might realise that I use it as my one "sporting metaphor" at work. I usually get very turned off when people try to engage me with football metaphors: "we're down two nil in the eighty-fifth minute, we need a super-sub" or "I'm just the skipper on the pitch, I need all the other ten men to get behind the ball too". Bleugh.
But for some reason the Tour is a totally resonant gold-mine for me of how I want my team to behave, lead and perform. I could go on for hours but three examples should do;
- Cycling is a team sport but it's also an individual sport. Each team has a leader and the rest of the team (the "domestiques") are paid to support him. This means that you competitors whose job it is to support and shelter their leader and that alone - this could be anything from: giving up your musette (feed bag) if the leader misses picking his up on the move; pacing the leader back to the pack if they stop for a wee or have a problem; all the way up to giving up your bike if the leader's bike has a failure. There's a wealth of things to think about there for work and other things you do in your life - how are you acting as a domestique in service to others? When are the team leader? When do these roles change? (On the last point, the best example of this is Bradley Wiggins as winner of the Tour leading out his team-mate Mark Cavendish for the stage win in Paris in the 2012 Tour - leader turned domestique for the day.
- The above, combined with the fact that to "just" be a domestique still means cycling 200km+ a day, every day for three weeks pretty much blows my mind. These are world-class athletes and they not only sublimate their ego and own ambitions to the service of the team leader but put themselves through agonies to do it. Legends.
- But probably the thing that I love the most about the Tour (and it's similar to why I love cricket) is the way that there are competitions within competitions and the balance of power and advantage can switch one way and another many times within a day. A rider might break away from the pack and be supported by a rider from another team during that lonely 150km because that helps their team to achieve something they want. Sometimes this is explicit with deals being done ("support me today and I'll set you up for a stage win tomorrow") on the wing and sometimes it's more serendipitous.
I was talking with my boss about all this and it turns out he is also a big cyclist and TDF fan and said he'd lend me a book he'd been reading. He did and I read it over Christmas and it's highly recommended by me for general sports fans or cycling aficionados.
It tells the story of the 1986 Tour which featured a see-saw battle between the new wave, represented by Greg LeMond and combative old-guard in the shape of Bernard Hinault (the eponymous 'Badger'). It's a cracking read that moves at huge pace and colours in the history and context of the race to make it fit together. There is a wealth of interviews with the key participants including LeMond and Hinault and their coaching teams.
The paperback edition (as linked above ) also has a fascinating epilogue that explores and justifies the author's designation of the 1986 race as the "Greatest Ever" in the subtitle to the book. The final passage touches on a few of themes I talk about above so I thought I'd quote from it at length;
Roll on 29th June!
Slaying the Badger by Richard Moore
I was talking with my new boss the other day at Work One (see the footnote here for my distinction between 'Work One' and 'Work Two') about how I like to operate at work, what my values and principles are, all stuff that I love (mainly because it means that I get to talk about myself) and we got to talking about the Tour de France. Now, anyone that follows my Twitter during June and July knows that I'm a huge TDF fan but not everyone might realise that I use it as my one "sporting metaphor" at work. I usually get very turned off when people try to engage me with football metaphors: "we're down two nil in the eighty-fifth minute, we need a super-sub" or "I'm just the skipper on the pitch, I need all the other ten men to get behind the ball too". Bleugh.
But for some reason the Tour is a totally resonant gold-mine for me of how I want my team to behave, lead and perform. I could go on for hours but three examples should do;
- Cycling is a team sport but it's also an individual sport. Each team has a leader and the rest of the team (the "domestiques") are paid to support him. This means that you competitors whose job it is to support and shelter their leader and that alone - this could be anything from: giving up your musette (feed bag) if the leader misses picking his up on the move; pacing the leader back to the pack if they stop for a wee or have a problem; all the way up to giving up your bike if the leader's bike has a failure. There's a wealth of things to think about there for work and other things you do in your life - how are you acting as a domestique in service to others? When are the team leader? When do these roles change? (On the last point, the best example of this is Bradley Wiggins as winner of the Tour leading out his team-mate Mark Cavendish for the stage win in Paris in the 2012 Tour - leader turned domestique for the day.
- The above, combined with the fact that to "just" be a domestique still means cycling 200km+ a day, every day for three weeks pretty much blows my mind. These are world-class athletes and they not only sublimate their ego and own ambitions to the service of the team leader but put themselves through agonies to do it. Legends.
- But probably the thing that I love the most about the Tour (and it's similar to why I love cricket) is the way that there are competitions within competitions and the balance of power and advantage can switch one way and another many times within a day. A rider might break away from the pack and be supported by a rider from another team during that lonely 150km because that helps their team to achieve something they want. Sometimes this is explicit with deals being done ("support me today and I'll set you up for a stage win tomorrow") on the wing and sometimes it's more serendipitous.
I was talking with my boss about all this and it turns out he is also a big cyclist and TDF fan and said he'd lend me a book he'd been reading. He did and I read it over Christmas and it's highly recommended by me for general sports fans or cycling aficionados.
It tells the story of the 1986 Tour which featured a see-saw battle between the new wave, represented by Greg LeMond and combative old-guard in the shape of Bernard Hinault (the eponymous 'Badger'). It's a cracking read that moves at huge pace and colours in the history and context of the race to make it fit together. There is a wealth of interviews with the key participants including LeMond and Hinault and their coaching teams.
The paperback edition (as linked above ) also has a fascinating epilogue that explores and justifies the author's designation of the 1986 race as the "Greatest Ever" in the subtitle to the book. The final passage touches on a few of themes I talk about above so I thought I'd quote from it at length;
"The reaction from one reader prompted me to think about another aspect of the story, an obvious one but one that I hadn't given much consideration to because it seemed so obvious. The reader, Gabriel Karaffa from New York, notes that the 1986 Tour was a 'stark example' of so many different people 'pursuing their own agendas'. The problem, of course, was that so many of the dominant players - from the charismatic, wealthy team owner to the coaching genius to the two strongest riders - happened to be in the same team. In cycling, perhaps more than any other sport, this is a recipe for conflict. Because, as Karaffa notes, 'cycling was not originally a team sport, but it evolved into one ... The problem with this, of course, is that only one rider can win the general classification ... Were it to completely convert to a team sport, all events would be decided by team classifications'.This neatly encapsulates the excitement at the heart of the sport for me. We saw some of this in the 2012 Tour with Cavendish (a cyclist built and conditioned to win) being de-prioritised by Team Sky to make sure that Wiggins won the race. This led to Cav leaving the British (dream) team to join Omega-Pharma-QuickStep where the operation will be built around him to win the Green Jersey.
Those of us who follow cycling closely accept that it is a team sport and rarely reflect on how unnatural this is. Perhaps it's best described as an individual team sport.
But it is an aspect of the sport that cuts to the heart of the 1986 drama. Neither Hinault nor LeMond was drawn to cycling in order to become a member of a successful team. Teenagers do not embark on the road to a career as a professional cyclist harbouring dreams of becoming a domestique. The team role is something that is forced on the majority of riders by their own limitations. For those without limitations - Hinault, LeMond - it is a nearly impossible compromise."
Roll on 29th June!
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Ghost of Christmas Past
During the interregnum that inevitably features between Christmas and New Year I took the radical (for me) step of going shopping in the January sales. As I was staying with my parents down South for a few days I had the somewhat unedifying choices of Crawley, Brighton or Croydon. I finally decided to go to Croydon as I'd been working in store before Christmas in Crawley so didn't really fancy going back and the train down to Brighton felt like a bit of a drag.
It was only as I got off the train at East Croydon station that I started to think about how long it was since I was last there. I reckon it's close to a decade which was a bit sobering. For the uninitiated I grew up and went to school in this part of the world - so always have half an eye out for news from this unloved London Borough that I called home until I was 18. I never really 'came home' after University - I lived for a year in York after I finished with my studies and then moved to Nottingham for work.
Anyway, train done, I wandered down towards the town proper from the station and started to feel oddly nostalgic. But then you know when you go back to somewhere or something that it totally familiar to you but then it turns out not to be quite the same as you remember it? Very dislocating when you're convinced that something has moved. For example - I often frequented (after the age of eighteen, obviously) 'The George' pub on George Street but if you'd asked me if Croydon's tram ran down that street I would have sworn that it ran on a parallel road. As I say, very odd.
I spent many happy hours as a teenager browsing the serendipitous racks of Beanos record store (I love the bathos of the phrase in that article, "STUFF marketplace officially closed on 30 April 2010 due to too little business") and owe my love of Elvis Costello's 'Armed Forces' and the lost genius of The Beekeepers (seriously, if you want a treat then get can a copy of 'Third Party, Fear and Theft'; it's brilliant) to that place. So I was naturally very sad when it closed down and this meant that my CD shopping was restricted to popping into 101 Records. They were handily enough having a half price sale so was able to make progress on my Dylan completism for relatively little money.
I'd somehow created a further false memory for myself that Croydon was included in Owen Hatherley's smart and provocative book, 'A Guide To The New Ruins of Great Britain'. I've just checked and it's not but you should read this book anyway anyway, not least for the chapter on Nottingham.
For a much maligned placed architecturally, Croydon does have some gems of Modernism that have a real place in my heart - Apollo House and Lunar are famous for (i) being hilariously dated by their moon-landing inspired names, (ii) now housing the UK Border Agency so a key first destination for many migrants to the UK and (iii) appearing many times as filming locations for 'Peep Show'. But whilst structurally the town was looking much the same, the changing face of the shops and rest of the streetscape was striking. The closure of Allders has obviously hit a blow at the heart of the community and I kept expecting to find other shops that had long gone and moved away. Sad.
Finally, and on a more upbeat note, there are some good signs of regeneration and redevelopment happening. An active BID (a model that works well in Nottingham too) looks to have put together some good plans and is certainly very visible. And there are some great looking plans for East Croydon station (itself an iconic cantilevered building) that will improve its links to the rest of the town.
Just a collection of thoughts really but hopefully a little treat for my midlands friends...
Anyway, train done, I wandered down towards the town proper from the station and started to feel oddly nostalgic. But then you know when you go back to somewhere or something that it totally familiar to you but then it turns out not to be quite the same as you remember it? Very dislocating when you're convinced that something has moved. For example - I often frequented (after the age of eighteen, obviously) 'The George' pub on George Street but if you'd asked me if Croydon's tram ran down that street I would have sworn that it ran on a parallel road. As I say, very odd.
I spent many happy hours as a teenager browsing the serendipitous racks of Beanos record store (I love the bathos of the phrase in that article, "STUFF marketplace officially closed on 30 April 2010 due to too little business") and owe my love of Elvis Costello's 'Armed Forces' and the lost genius of The Beekeepers (seriously, if you want a treat then get can a copy of 'Third Party, Fear and Theft'; it's brilliant) to that place. So I was naturally very sad when it closed down and this meant that my CD shopping was restricted to popping into 101 Records. They were handily enough having a half price sale so was able to make progress on my Dylan completism for relatively little money.
I'd somehow created a further false memory for myself that Croydon was included in Owen Hatherley's smart and provocative book, 'A Guide To The New Ruins of Great Britain'. I've just checked and it's not but you should read this book anyway anyway, not least for the chapter on Nottingham.
For a much maligned placed architecturally, Croydon does have some gems of Modernism that have a real place in my heart - Apollo House and Lunar are famous for (i) being hilariously dated by their moon-landing inspired names, (ii) now housing the UK Border Agency so a key first destination for many migrants to the UK and (iii) appearing many times as filming locations for 'Peep Show'. But whilst structurally the town was looking much the same, the changing face of the shops and rest of the streetscape was striking. The closure of Allders has obviously hit a blow at the heart of the community and I kept expecting to find other shops that had long gone and moved away. Sad.
Finally, and on a more upbeat note, there are some good signs of regeneration and redevelopment happening. An active BID (a model that works well in Nottingham too) looks to have put together some good plans and is certainly very visible. And there are some great looking plans for East Croydon station (itself an iconic cantilevered building) that will improve its links to the rest of the town.
Just a collection of thoughts really but hopefully a little treat for my midlands friends...
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