All Team IASC with the exception of Eoin, who arrived home yesterday, landed in Dublin before 5pm. It is a really satisfying feeling arriving home knowing we achieved what we set out to do.  A bit different to how Team Breac felt a couple of weeks ago but as a few of the messages of support said - Team Breac will prevail. And prevail we did! The Smugglers and Team Trosc led the way in style on Saturday with two amazing swims and thankfully we were able to follow their example and complete the IASC hatrick on Sunday!  

I dont know if it has fully sunk in yet, When Ace got out of the water after his amazing third time and DJ got in,and started motoring towards shore it looked like I mightnt have to get in for a third time but as the other two teams had warned us the last few swims are the hardest and the shore stayed a distance away despite Dave covering huge ground.  The pilot smirked at me and said "Looks like you will have to get your hair wet again!"

Ace gave me a few tips and before I knew it I was in again.  The beach looked close but never close enough.  As I was swimming I could see all the lads watching from the boat and roaring on encouragement.  There was only one thing going through my head for that last swim and it was just go as fast and hard as I could and see if that beach appeared!!! I was waiting to see the lads getting changed to jump in and swim to shore with me when we were close enough but they seemed intent on staying fully clothed!!!

Then all of a sudden they were waving to get my attention.....was my hour up.....I wasnt sure what was going on.  I stopped and they told me this was it - the boat couldnt go any further I just had to swim to the beach!  Swim to the beach - were they mad - it still looked ages away! My arms ached and I wasnt sure I was going to make it.  I just kept going and then there was a white cap beside me (Al) telling me for god sake swim in a straight line! I was taking a little mini detour but once he got back on course again, we were closing in.  I had to be the first one to clear the water and the others could follow so Al swam beside me until I could stand and then I was on my own. Half swimming, half running to roars of encouragement from the lads (Do a Baywatch on it!!!), I managed to make it on to the beach! It was a great feeling - hard to describe but one I will never forget.  There was a man on the beach and he started asking me where had I come from and I had to force my brain to function and try and get some coherent French out of my mouth! And then the lads were there and there was alot of hugging and celebrating!  

Our stay in France was brief but memorable and then it was back to the boat to more hugs and celebrations with Brian & Heather the CSA observer.  Next up was the bubbly and the boat was turned back to England and we were on our way home!  The journey back was long but I had a little nap on the engine box which was nice and cosy ;-)  The other two teams were out in force to welcome us back into the harbour - more hugs, celebrations and more champagne!! It was awesome.

I wont bore you with details of the celebrations - what goes on tour stays on tour! A good few nights were had by all is all I will divugle!

Great to be home though and to know that I dont have a 7am session in the pool with Foxy! Even though she was trying to get some volunteers in the airport on the way back ;-)

Thanks to everyone for all the continuous support and encouragement.  It has been an amazing experience and I am honoured to have been able to share it with the best group of people anyone could ask for - my fellow IASCers.

I think is probably the end of my blogging career - its been a blast!

A x

We've been immersed in the background to channel swimming so much over the last year that the swimmers often forget that our supporters are not sure of the mechanics of a relay crossing. So here is the low down.

In team breac there are 5 swimmers. The sequence in which the swimmers swim is decided before the team get onto the boat and is then given to the observer from the Channel Swimming Association. This sequence must be maintained throughout the swim.

Each swimmer swims for an hour and with 5 mins to go the changeover window commences. The next swimmer gets into the water & starts from a position behind the previous swimmer and then swims past them. At that point the previous swimmer can return to the boat.

If a swimmer can't complete their hour or touch the boat during their swim the relay team is disqualified.

Relay swimmers generally don't put on any lanolin oil or other insulation as they can handle the water temperature for an hour before changing over. Relay swimmers generally don't feed in the water as they have the chance to do that outside their swim rotation.

Swims generalls start from a beach near Dover called Samphire Hoe and aim for a point on the French coast called Cap Gris-Nez. The route generally takes an S-shape curve as the pilot aims to have the swimmer working accross the tides. As a result the distance travelled can be several miles higher than the “as the crow flies” distance which is 22 miles.

The first swimmer enters the water from the boat and then swims to the beach and clears the water. At that point the time clock starts and the swimmer enters the water again on the first leg of the relay to France. The last swimmer similarly must clear the water at the French side.

That's all I can think of ....so we'll put into practice tonight.

Ian.

The team was in high spirits, apart from savagely cold feet from a bout of welly wearing.  This was agreed by all to be a mistake.  If it is a sunny day when we get to go (or more properly not a rainy night), runners will be in order.

All five of the team got in before me and looked confident, strong swimming by everyone.  Those fuckers.  There is really nothing like a strong display from your teammates to put it up to you.  I stripped off 5 minutes before I was due to get in and even though it is a cliché, it really is warmer in the water than on the boat.  I froze standing there in my tightie-greenies.

I hopped in the water, and started to swim.  If any of you are planning this, here are Con’s-toptips© for a happy night swim:

So as most of you will have already heard – we are on our way home :-( Earlier than expected and without having attempted what we came to Folkestone to do, but we live to fight another day.

To say we were gutted when we spoke to the pilot yesterday is the understatement of the century but when he said none of the CSA pilots are even contemplating going out before next Thurs we knew there was no point hanging around any longer. We had only been in Folkestone for 2 days at that point and it felt like a week!!!!!! And that is not an exaggeration. The pilot said we were better off going home than hanging around driving ourselves mad waiting for a change in the weather that simply isn't going to come.

He is more confident of getting us across the next time. The tides are much smaller and he has a bigger window to work with. He says he has a 5-day window to get Team Trosc across. Once they make it over and a window opens up in the weather he is going to give us a call with 12 hours notice and we will hop on the next plane and make our way to Folkestone.

So it means back to training on Monday morning which will probably be the hardest thing seeing as we thought we would be all done when we got back to Ireland. I'm a bit worried about getting into the Irish Sea again – the Channel was positively balmy in comparison!!!!

Mr B. is refusing to blog – no surprises there but he has offered a few comments......

“I am looking forward to a dip in Skerries this evening and a nice home cooked meal.”

Mr B assures us all he will be bringing us vital piece of kit back to Folkestone in two weeks- his trusty Superquinn plastic bag. Who needs a kit bag when you have one of those :-)

No doubt there will be lots of questions over the next few days due to early arrival home but all we can say is that the circumstances conspired against us. We have to take positives from our trip and we feel like we will be ready to hit the ground running when we get the call next time!!!!

So I will have to ask you to keep your fingers crossed for another two weeks.

Thanks for all the support so far

A x

Friday night and unfortunately we wont be going anywhere tonight :-(

We met with pilot and the boat owner and the weather is not doing us any favours – gusts of force 5 to 7 mean tomorrow morning is definitely a no go. They have said they dont want to take us out if they think we arent going to make it so we are really hoping the weather will break and give us some chance. No boats are leaving from Dover either and seemingly there is a big back log waiting to go from there. But we will just have to wait and see. Next update with pilot is tomorrow lunch time but from our expert anlaysis of all the weather websites- its not looking hopeful. We will keep you updated.

We were all psyched up and ready to go today – went for a swim, had lunch, went for an afternoon nap, restocked the supplies and even had the big spag bol ready to go! Needless to say the spag bol didnt go to waste with this lot!!!!

We are currently playing a game of “sticky head” - dont ask but it is more than midly amusing especially when Ian is Maggie Thatcher ;-) Still havent figured out who I am though!

Plan for tomorrow is to swim in the morning and then wait and see what the pilot says – keep everything crossed.

Mr B is saving his blog until his has something juicy to write about!!!

Talk soon

A x

So Friday morning and Alan has his grumpy trousers on ........ again!!!! Only kidding all his trousers are grumpy trousers :-) The lifts woke him at 6 this morning and he wasnt a happy camper.

Dave had a conversation with the pilot and tomorrow morning 1.30am is looking like a possibility but we wont know for sure until this evening. Again keep everything crossed for us.

Breaking news – Mr B is going to write his first blog- will defo be worth a read!

Its bizarre when you look at the window it looks so calm and seemingly its Force 4 or 5. Sun is out too – might work on my tan ;-)

We are off to Dover now – chat later

Ax

Captains Log: This is more of a mental challenge than physical! I've heard it plenty of times throughout this project but it really has hit home today.

Its after 1am on friday morning and i cant sleep. I need to blog my thoughts....

We spoke to the owner of the boat today. You can tell from the owner that it really has been a bad season for swimming. They have started to push for bookings during june/july next year for relay teams (who can put up with the cold for an hour at a time). He wasnt very optimistic about our window and our most promising day saturday has gone bad!!

Am really taken back that all this bad news hasnt, besides some expected disappointment, faltered the spirit and determination of the team to give it their best shot if the slightest of opportunities rise. We all knew this swim was going to be particularly difficult cause of the weather warnings. We still headed over here to folkestone regardless. After all, 10 mths in the making and achievements made along the way! Who can blame them! Wouldnt expect anything less from my team.

Started to climatise today. Easy swim, not as cold as ireland waters! Heading to dover tomorrow for more climatisation.

Big milestone tomorrow eve, meeting pilot at 6.30 to see if saturday ot sunday is an option. My support person (brian) and I will speak to him before meeting the wider team just to sus out what conditions and team this guy can travel with.

We all knew this window was going to be tough but we are ready for it. Is the pilot ready for us?

David

My gym bag.  I unpacked my gym bag fully last night.  Some people may do this daily, some weekly, some longer.  Unfortunately for my nose (and as it transpires my hygiene), I fall into the longer category.

I found:

One towel,
One pair of togs.
6 swim hats
2 pairs of goggles
1 pair of headphones for a phone I no longer use
1 pair of flip-flops
1 mashed banana

Now, the more eagle-eyed among you may spot the odd-one-out (clue: it’s not the headphones).  What makes this worse is I was merrily unpacking my bag, and then ugh! hand straight into the mother load.  My god it stank.  I sterilised my bag and flip-flops and made a mental note to eat any bananas I put in my bag that day, or at least before they migrate to the bottom of my bag and rot.

One notable absence from the bag is the sports towel (or chamois, as the Garganator refers to it).  I haven’t used it in a while, and you store it wet.  To be honest, I am a little apprehensive about taking the lid off its canister.  I predict a horrendous stink.  I think that I’ll deal with it tonight.  No time like the present, it truly is a quality bit of swimming paraphernalia and I can’t wait to start using it again.

The sea itself.  The sea smells.  Smells sea-like? Salty? Briny? And occasionally very, very bad indeed.  Sometimes I am swimming along and I get a whiff of, a whiff of…well a smell that says to some primal part of your brain that you shouldn’t be swimming through this.  Smells do this, your body reacts at an instinctual level and goes “move faster buddy, this isn’t good water.”  I am learning to listen with my nose.

Myself.  I constantly stink of three things; chlorine, salt or sweat.  Sometimes a mixture of all three.  Chlorine seems to be particularly insidious (a quick google tells me chlorine is odourless and that what I am actually smelling is chloramines.  For God sake, don’t look these up if you are planning on getting into a pool soon), and leaves a lasting after shower smell.  So I have bought man-fume.  Not really ever buying into the man-perfume market (blue stratos as a young, young man, a brief flirtation with Paco, and an acquaintance with Calvin Klien aside), I have decided on the one for me.  L'eau D'Issey Intense Cologne For Men by Issey Miyake. 

Now, I understand the traditional cologne buying technique for men goes something like this: Your wife, partner or mother goes to a shop, decides they like the smell of something and buys it for you.  I went a different route, and here’s why.  I visited a perfume factory in a previous job, and discovered that the way perfumes are manufactured is that a designer puts a concept out to tender, perfume companies manufacture a scent to what they think the designer’s vision is, he smells it (“Not enough woodland spirit!”) and then picks a winner.  Then perfume goes into manufacturing to become CKone or whatever.

I read the concept behind Miyake’s ‘vision’:
A captivating new fragrance from Issey Miyake, L'Eau D'Issey Intense cologne is the epitome of elegance. Building on the spicy notes of the original L'Eau D'Issey Pour Homme, Intense brings the fresh cologne to a new level. Imagine a stream of water that continues to change its course and gain power. The masculinity and warmth of Intense illustrates water's force like never before. L'Eau D'Issey Intense cologne sparkles with its citrus, spicy and woody scent. Notes include Mandarin, Yuzu, Bergamot, Nutmeg, Saffron, Cardamom, Black Incense, Ambergris.

You are a better person than me if you didn’t need to look up Yuzu and Bergamot.  Unfortunately, I know that ambergris is whale-vomit (although wikipedia tells me it is actually whale shit, only bits that are too large to exit are vomited out).

The concept alone wasn’t enough.  In the magazine I was reading on the aeroplane, the perfumiers talked about Miyake being a recluse, how they never met him and how they’d receive a mandate from his go-to guys.  This general weirdness, coupled with an undeniably sexy photo of Miyake and my general fetish for Japan pushed me toward his product.

I still would have been too cheap to buy it, if my wife hadn’t gone to the duty free and bought it for me.  In fairness to me, I tried a squirt of both the pour homme and the pour homme intense. I preferred the intense, a big musky sillage. 

I had to look that up too. 

What has this got to do with swimming?  Not much, maybe.  Like a drunken tool, I hurt my right arm when arm-wrestling.  It's getting much better, thankfully.  Also, I sat opposite a girl on the train today who looked the spit of Velma from Scooby-Doo.  Glasses, jumper everything.  On the way out, I met two girls in evening dress, one was wearing a big pair of glasses, trying and failing to cover the bruises around her eyes.  I have begun to notice that tap-water is tasting a little worse. 

All this and more is weighing on my mind, and as I try to find a connection between these events I can't.  Not apophenia so.  At least seeing odd things gives me something to think about when swimming.

TriAthy tomorrow.  Looking forward to it.

I am doing my second triathlon this weekend (30/5/09) with 2 days to go I am somewhat ill at ease with the lack of preparation done for it.

The fear of the unknown with the first one led me to do at least 60K on the bike and 5k on the run in preparation. How have I prepared for this one - the H cup final in edinburgh mostly. I have not gotten seriously onto the bike since the last tri and I have had a bit of a lull on the swimming front. The bad news - the forecast for the weekend is HOT, the good news - we are not starting until 1730 so it wont be too bad one way or another!

Also the sea swims start in 10 days time - this whole fitness malarky is suddenly looking very serious. Am going to have to get into the sea again before then to stave off shock - perhaps Sunday to help numb the post triathlon aches. Then again on Monday to keep up with the Jones' and the Murphys

My prediction…pain.

Abs class…sounds so innocent, and in reality was innocent enough (in my 2 visits) until Thursday of last week. The last day of April will be etched in my mind for this reason and this reason alone…the abs class from hell. The really sly thing about the abs class is that you don’t find out that it was the abs class from hell until the next day, and if you are lucky its only one day that has you realising it. I woke up on Friday morning and I felt as though someone had secretly attached one of those ab isolator things to my quadriceps (thigh muscles) on both legs overnight and put it on maximum for 8 hours. Getting into a standing position from sitting was HELL, the burning on my thighs was heinous.

I can take this for a day, no problem.

I woke up on Saturday, the day of the H cup semi final. And it was only marginally better, but I had to play Saturday morning football. I was very much a passenger. Then I found out that I was in the top tier of the Cusack! It was slow going on the way up, but down the steps was torture, but then at least leinster had won. Perhaps I should get Cathy to do the extreme lunges again on the 21st….

It is true that myself and the swimmer formerly known as wolf (TSFKAW) did a triathlon recently. While I am happy to recommend doing such an event I am not happy to recommend this particular event. Why? The waves. 8 waves by 30 minutes = 4 hours of waiting to go when you are (for some crazy reason) in the élite wave. If you are a chick then do the race…you will be home in time for lunch. You go off in the first 2 waves. Smart men that we are though, we realised that this temporal glitch was going to see my breakfast of porridge wasted (in terms of energy - despite all the effort that went into making it - thanks TSFKAW)so I had to go in search of food in Portlaoise. A grubby and generally unhappy man threw 2 brown bread hang sandwiches together and that sorted that problem out.

But that only wasted 20 minutes at most…there was 4 hours of this. A gameboy or scrabble was really required.

Eventually I was preparing to race and I met the guys in my lane (3 others) 2 would be doing 750m in 10 mins (GREEEAT) I said I would be 15 mins at best.

In we went, lapped 4 or 5 times by the pacey lads and last out of the pool (it was close though - I might have been second last but of course I was in lane 5 and had to get all the way across the building to get out - and then get photographed by the goons as I jogged along in my tiny togs)

Transition - 4 mins…drying off, checking blood sugar, getting out of togs, putting on runners and top and helmet (don’t forget helmet or you will be in trouble). I made 2 major mistakes here (and they are related) 1. I did not put on my cycling shorts. 2. I took off my togs. The real solution to both problems is to wear the "tri shorts that everone seemed to be wearing (or indeed tri suits in some cases). Why? Faster transition is a good reason…a better reason is so that you don’t get severe chaffing on your inner thighs after the run section ( I think the togs may have saved me on the chaffing front - but that is unproven)…so tri shorts are a must for me for the TriAthy at the end of May.

So I was last onto the bike, I saw no one ahead of me through the whole cycle (other than people on their way back), and I was last off the bike and off on the run.

The run was HELLLLLL. After about 1k my quads were seizing up and I thought I might have to stop - but then I saw TSFKAW on his way back to the finish so I felt if he was finishing it then I suppose I would have to, despite the fact that there would be blood oozing from my thighs and I could feel the chaffing starting up (why did I not put on those cycling shorts? WHYYY?)

When I got to the turning point I was so far behind all the élite goons that the steward had left his post…groan.

On the upside I did complete and received a tinny medal and a cup of tasty soup (as well as a gourmet TSFKAW sandwich).

The weekend improved to an extent when I travelled to the UK to watch leinster beat harlequins in a dogfight at the stoop (although my legs did not function well for the days I was there and the chaffing was at its worst on easter monday)

CJ (neé Elvis) and I (formerly Wolf) did a triathlon at the weekend, the Portlaoise Try-athlon.  It was a sprint, so that's a 750m swim, 20k cycle and 5k run.  We had registered in the competent swim category (12 - 15 minutes), so I was in wave 7, CJ in wave 8.  The net effect of this was sitting.  Sitting for hours (4 of them) as people did the backstroke, breaststroke and not-dying-substroke to get from one end of the pool to the other 30 times.

When I got in I acquitted myself nicely at 14 and a half minutes.  I'd have been faster except for the goon in front of me who wouldn't get out of the way.  On to transition (3 mins), a quick flash for the crowd as I dispensed with my togs, and off for my cycle.  Since the beginning of the year I had done 9.77km (total) cycling.  This was a mistake.  The bike ride was not great, either physically or psychologically.  Folk passing me out, cramp in my left calve, general misery.  51 minutes, and a resolution to cycle more before the next one.  I met CJ on his way out, he was at the 5k mark, I was at the 15k mark.  Back into Porlaoise where the traffic was backed up, went on the outside of the queue and then the inside trying not to die.

Back to transition, 38 secs, and out for the run.  Legs like lead.  Met CJ at the 4k/1k mark. 5k in 27 minutes, slow enough for me, but happy enough after the cycle.  A total time of 1hr37mins.  A PB (obviously), and a benchmark for the next one

And I got a medal.

I was talking to Al (heretofore 'The Ace') about this, and he was saying that he never got any medals for races that he has been in.  Needless to say I was horrified.  What the hell is the point if you don't get medals?  The medal for the tri was pretty shit (in comparison to the Mooathon cow medal) but that's not the point.  Screw personal achievement, if there isn't a piece of anonymous compound metal at the end, I'm not interested.  Now, it could be that he just never went looking for the medals after his races, but he was certain that the swim races have no medals.  What's that about?  Jesus guys! Pull the finger out.  I have a shoebox that I have to put these things into. 

I am now worried that I won't get a medal after the channel swim.  This really puts the whole thing in jeopardy for me.  What I am supposed to wear into work after I do it? Huh? A grin? My clothes? My knowledge of what I did?  No way man!  I am going to mail the CSA to find out, I'll let you know what they say.

I have some notes on the run:

Some people, especially ladies have a crazy gait.  I saw more than one lady keep their upper leg locked to the knee, and then have their lower leg swing out in a 180 degree arc to run.  I cannot imagine running 500m like that, never mind 21k, without my knees falling off.  I am no expert, but I think this is bad.

Some really fat people run the race.  Kudos to them.  Except the guy who collapsed on the bus on the way home.  I can't preach about not doing enough training without sounding like a complete hypocrite, but 18st + 21k + a really hot day will finish you off if you are not careful.

To the fellow with cancer and the new hip, well done to you.  A genuine inspiration.

To the ultra-marathoners, especially the guy who did 39.3m in 4:41:07.  WTF? Are you aliens?

A lot of people make sex noises when running. Sinead was running beside one gent making over the top sex noises and I was running beside a lady who really, really seemed to be enjoying what she was doing. If only fate could've had them running side-by-side. An aural live show for everyone, I am sure I even heard some baa-ing at one point.

To the fellow who we met at breakfast who had run the marathon route the day before he ran the marathon.  Words fail me.  No, wait they don't.  You really bored the pants off me and I wish you had left me alone to eat my toast.  I know that sounds unfriendly, I'm sorry.  I'm really gald you didn't introduce me to those guys that ran 10 marathons in 10 days though.  They looked and sounded like they should be in an asylum.  On the upside, all that running probably keeps you and them out of the newspapers.

To my wife, well done, every minute gained is a success.  To me, fantastic job buddy! A personal triumph.

To the guy with the muscled legs unknowingly pacemaking for my wife, you did a good job.  To the lady with the rugby top unknowingly pacemaking for me, you also did a tremendously good job.  Nice legs and lovely bottoms on pacemakers are two of the unbreakable tenets of running, and quite possibly the only thing that makes it fun.  I hope one day either my legs or bottom can provide some pleasure to someone else.

To the last mile.  You are pure hell.  I hate you.

My chip time was 01:59:05

Splits:

Mile 1: 9.36
Mile 2: 8.52
Mile 3: 7.44
Mile 4: 7.55
Mile 5: 8.41
Mile 6: 9.32
Mile 7: 8.51
Mile 8: 9.04
Mile 9: 8.54
Mile 10: 10.10
Mile 11: 10.34
Mile 12 & 13: 19.19

N.B. Ended up with sore calves and quads after the race.  I had a swim today and it ironed me right out.  Go on the swimming.

I happened upon a real freak show this morning.

With the table quiz taking place tonight and, not wanting to let the side down, knowing I would be expected to attend and put in a power performance I decided, in my wisdom to go for an early morning swim. Little did I know that it was going to give me a view of the worst of both worlds.

I did notice the childlike scrawl of the Ace on my way in…this did lead to some horripillation on my part.

All seemed quiet in the changing rooms, I didn't see the superman underpants (anally folded to show the man of steels fist and face) that one normally associates with the powerhouse of DI, so perhaps I would be OK, maybe he had already done his 3K and was back at work, it was after all 7:45 by now.

As I entered the pool though, I knew it was trouble…Ace was laughing it up, delighting at his opportunity to break someone new. "New Fish" they cried, rattling their metal mugs against the cell doors...

Thankfully they were on the way down from a 20 length pyramid at 16 (decreasing by 4). I was instructed to join in immediately.

On the upside I did get to break the pool rule (no diving in the shallow end) - on the downside there is no rule against petting*.

Lost count in the set of 16...drat…ended up doing 18, as if I didn’t need the rest enough

12, 8, 4 done…pasted.

Thinking that I'll be able to cooly do a 400m warm down now until…oh COME ON now there's a crazy bearded man coming over looking to do a 15 length pyramid (what can you say - they all know that you've only come in half way through their crazy ritual). BALLS…now there's another, the sprinter has arrived and we have 3 in the lane going for this crazy pyramid scheme. I bring up the rear because I know these guys are faster than me…I prove myself right. It’s a real nightmare. 5,10,15,10,5. made it and I havent drowned, I'd say this is a bonus. Definitely out of the pool now.

"who's up for a hypoxic set" ahh God…the crazy bearded man has clearly been infected by some virus carried by the ace. "So" he goes on, seemingly believing what he is saying is possible, "mostly, we do 2 lengths normal, 2 lengths breathing every 3 strokes, 2 lengths breathing every 5 strokes, 2 lengths breathing every 7, then 2 lengths breathing every 9" most surprisingly he didn't say "then you wake up in the E.R. and find out that I have performed mouth to mouth on you" (although US lifeguarding technique now teaches the heimlich maneuvre to clear the lungs http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase/Issue/story?oid=oid%3A729455 somewhat controversially).

I fail at almost every pair of lengths…I do 3,3,4,3,3(with the odd 4 and one 5). Who can do 9? Raise your hands…now look at your hand…is it webbed?

All set to get out…Dr Jones pipes up…who's for a few sprints to finish…

When will it ever end…

*for more information on rules required attend the pool on Friday at 5-30 to observe the animals….but no petting!

Roll on the next swim.  Feeling good about it all.

On a side note: I'm am off to Spain in about six weeks, there is a 50 metre outside pool close to where I am going.  Expected water temp in the pool is 16 degrees.  Looks good for some serious training.

I have been muttering here and elsewhere about the boredom of repetitive training, and while out for a run (15km) on Saturday I had a bit of an emotional moment. I know that my body is fit enough for 15 kilometres, but my mind wasnt really cooperating. I finished the distance in a longer then expected time (there was a bit of walking), but at least I completed what I set out to do. I was talking to Sinead after the run about my mind letting me down, and she pointed me toward Rene Descartes, who got the point 370 years ago.  **N.B. Sinead hates Descartes. I am reasonably inclined to agree as the school of rationalism seems to be entirely attended by dicks.**

Descartes summarized:
Cogito ergo sum or I think therefore I am. Thought cannot be separated from me, therefore I exist etc. There is a world class amount of guff surrounding this (I have proved existence by saying something really clever. Look at me!)

But later on he also fathered the concept of Mind-Body dichotomy or Dualism.

From Wikipedia:

"Descartes suggested that the body works like a machine, that it has the material properties of extension and motion, and that it follows the laws of physics. The mind (or soul), on the other hand, was described as a nonmaterial entity that lacks extension and motion, and does not follow the laws of physics. Descartes argued that only humans have minds, and that the mind interacts with the body at the pineal gland. This form of dualism or duality proposes that the mind controls the body, but that the body can also influence the otherwise rational mind, such as when people act out of passion. Most of the previous accounts of the relationship between mind and body had been uni-directional."

Now, apart from the pineal gland craziness and the fact that he thought only humans have minds, this is good stuff. Philosophers have been arguing about it ever since (of course), thats what they don't get paid for. Descartes, if he were to come back today, would probably be amazed by what he kicked off. He probably coughed out the idea of dualism before his afternoon schnapps one morning and 400 years later people are still arguing about it. I like the idea of dualism over monism. Monism states there is no fundamental division between body and mind. I think in regards to monism over dualism, philosophers are swimming, not training. I find it easier to train when I divorce my mind from my body. But herein I have laid a philosophical trap for myself. Oh! The whimsy! After a conversation with Sinead over a reasonably priced Sauvignon Blanc, I discovered that the divorce of mind and body while training is actually of a form of monism. I bet you are blown away! The theory goes that you are not actually separating mind and body, but in fact that they are instinctually together. The textbook book definition of monism. If you are in the zone, your mind cedes to your body and they work as one. It now appears I am a monist.

But that's not all (and a pint of beer for you if you have got this far, just comment to claim it), all of this is empirical and subject to Qualia. Qualia is a fancy word for the subjective experience of external received stimuli. Thus, mental states have the property of being experienced subjectively in different ways by different individuals. This is leading toward me sports psychology, and my psychology. If sports psychology espouses monism, which I think is likely (Though, I expect it depends on the therapist), then trying to apply a form of mind-body synchronicity over mind-body dualism would be more likely route for me to follow, or at least try to achieve.  Also, because of Qualia if I find my mental magic bullet, what works for me may not work for you.  I have got an underwater MP3 player in the mail this morning, I am going to put audiobooks on it to try and force a division between my mental and physical states.  I figure I can let my body do its thing, while diverting my mind elsewhere. Subconsciously my body will feeding my brain instructions leading me into a monist state. 

I hope I remember to breathe.

...A cat stood looking at the door.  It presented a barrier, one that she was determined to cross.  What would she do on the other side of the door?  She was fixated on finding out.  Slowly and rhytmically, she started to scratch at the door...

There is a question posed by one Marion Hurden in “Do Polar Bears Get Lonely?” a collection of the ‘Last Word’ columns from New Scientist magazine.

"When I wade into the sea or immerse myself in an outdoor swimming pool, why does the water always seem coldest when it reaches my midriff?"

(Which reminds me of the old joke: Why does a woman rub her eyes in the morning?)

Two people write in. Both suggest that the lack of organs in our legs and work that our intestines do makes our stomach warmer, thus when the cold water hits our stomachs, it feels colder.  Then in an editorial footnote, the editor states many men have written in saying the shock is worst when the cold water hits their testicles.  The editor surmises that nerve endings may have a role to play in feeling the cold.

I went swimming today with Aoife and Ciaran, with this in mind.  The water temperature was estimated at a balmy 5 degrees centigrade.  In the interests of empirical research, I asked them to consider where the shock of the water was coldest.  I didn’t share the stomach information, I don’t agree with Marion Hurden anyway.  From my summer/autumn experience of swimming in the sea, the shock travels like this: “Oh my toes, OUCH! MY BALLS, ooh my stomach, GODDAMMIT MY PITS! HOLY GODDAM HELL HECK HELL HELL MY HEAD!, ahhh every thing is okay now, I’ll swim for a while”   When I get out my head and ears tend to ache for a while afterwards.  Yep, head is definitely the worst.