Two wheels to four legs

In the weeks prior to flying out to Brazil the UK press were continually debating the dangers of the mosquito-born Zika virus. All GB athletes heading out for test events or pre Olympic training have been given comprehensive instructions to cover up and religiously use repellent. I arrived slightly concerned about this risk and naively expected to see immediate warnings or evidence or this disease.

Speaking to locals it is certainly something they are aware of, and naturally concerned about, yet in their opinion it seems to pose a much lower a risk than our press have lead us to believe. I spoke to several Brazilians and most of them were not even aware of any friends or relatives who had experienced the virus. In their view Dengue fever is still equally dangerous, the only difference being the danger of Zika for pregnant women. Despite my religious use of repellent I frustratingly came home with a handful of bites, I now have to wait for the incubation time to pass and hope I am safe.

Last week saw one of the largest meetings in national hunt racing calendar which culminated in Gold Cup day. The Cheltenham festival saw a record number of cameras and journalists attend the final day; largely thanks to an Olympic cyclist. The headlines were stolen by Victoria Pendleton who after less than a year of riding managed to complete the Foxhunter race and finish a respectable fifth. She proved her critics wrong and with it has brought new fans and followers to the world of horse racing. I can understand the cross over from cycling to riding, the equal need for strong leg and back muscles, a stable core and some serious guts. I know this from the reverse experience when I moved from horse riding to cycling. Sadly though, I think I might have left it a little late in my career to reach the top of the two wheeled sport.

Tropical

I have propped the windows open as wide as is physically possible in the hope that a small breeze might filter through off the busy streets below. This is not the perfect start to the week, waking up on a Monday morning to discover there is no power in the building and it is already reaching towards a very humid 30 degrees. During my few days at home I was frustrated by the even colder “feels like” forecast; it was always lagging a few degrees behind the actual temperature due to the wind chill factor. Here in Rio De Janeiro it is the complete reverse, it seems that if you are not in the shade it can feel almost a whole ten degrees hotter than the actual thermometer recording, let me just say that is HOT.

After seven days in the soon to be Olympic host city I have realised that the frequent loss of electricity is not the only concern. The organising committee are frantically preparing for the worlds largest sporting event, that arrives in just four months time.

I am here working on the Modern Pentathlon World Cup that has doubled as a test event.  It is impossible to know where to begin, the list of frustrations the athletes, coaches and organisers have experienced over the past few days is immeasurable. As an announcer I have been tested by the continuous changes to the timetable, the running order, the names and outside of anyone’s control, the weather. The women’s final was almost cancelled due to a severe tropical storm, from my commentary position it was impossible to actually see the race happening in front of our booth. The drama did not end there, once the rain had subsided the chaos then moved to the roads. Four hours later at 1am I walked into my hotel.

Custard wellingtons

The theme of a running race per weekend has continued. I use the term ‘race’ loosely, especially with reference to my most recent event. As I mentioned last week the Park Run 5K is popular across the UK attracting people of all abilities and ambitions. Both my ability and ambition were dampened this week as I stood on the start line of the Moors Valley run, although it was nothing in comparison to my friend, aka “the hen”.

I can hear you shouting ‘why are you running on a hen do?!’ – a few of the girls were asking this but we managed a fifty percent turn out, all embracing the compulsory fancy dress. I have always enjoyed running without the need to spice it up in a costume so I was slightly concerned with the comfort factor and what to wear. As it turned out an extra layer of clothing over my usual running attire worked as a pleasant insulator on a chilly morning. I cannot say the same for then hen as her already hideous outfit was topped off with custard filled wellingtons – and somehow she ran the whole thing, beating many baffled participants.

Since returning from Africa it has been an unusually hectic few days. I had hardly finished unpacking before preparing my bag to head off to Brazil for work. After three weeks away there are a few things that you really appreciate. Personally the comfort of my own bed and the independence of driving my own car feature high on the list. Both were severely hampered. I cannot find my keys and I still have no recollection of where they could be or where else to look. Do not worry I am not sleeping on the street, an emergency spare set of house keys are now in use and a second car key has been sent. This just leaves me slightly uneasy as I head off again, this time with no spares.

Sunday morning stroll

The theme continued through out my South African holiday, I was bitten by their active bug. As I headed West along the coast the enthusiasm and opportunity for sport did not let up. I am aware much of this is due to the climate in the southern hemisphere at this time of year, as who could resist the allure of the outdoors with the fresh sea air and the deep warming sunshine. 

I got a little carried away after completing the Park Run, so much so that just a week later I had agreed to run a half marathon. Thankfully I was now down at sea level although the 4am alarm call on the Sunday morning did have me questioning my decision. Unlike in the UK no pre entry was required,  I could have so easily rolled over and ignored that alarm. Thankfully I had agreed to run it with a friend, there was no choice.

Just as the sun was rising over the ocean, hundreds of like minded slightly crazy runners set off along the quiet and picturesque route. It was only then that it dawned on me, I have not trained for such an event, my longest run in the last nine months probably equated to half the distance. This news then reached my legs at about fourteen kilometres into the twenty-one kilometre race. As we meandered along the river Knysna towards the sea the stunning views with mist rising off the shimmering water and the hills appearing behind were just enough to distract my mind from the fatigue in my muscles.

Damage limitation was required and what better way to recover than a dip in the chilly waters off the Eastern Cape. This brought back memories of cross country races in Cornwall that were often followed with a dash into the Atlantic post run. The only difference being I did not need to worry about a possible hypothermic reaction.

Active at altitude

The craze for sport does not end on the sofa or in the seats of a stadium here in South Africa; it continues out onto the streets and across the parks. Much to my delight I discovered that the people of this country enjoy doing sport almost as much as I do.

This trip is a holiday yet it has had several similarities to training camps of my past athletic career, but with more wine and food. My first few days in Johannesburg I was keen to get over the flight and test my fitness at the altitude of 1650m. Swimming was not a problem and when presented with an open water pool, shared with just two other swimmers and at a cost of forty pence per session, I was in heaven.

After a couple of steady runs in the local park I was feeling brave and signed up for the five kilometre, free, park run. Now an international event hosted by cities all around the world I have participated in several at home and thought I should sample an African one.

The sun was already beating down and the air feeling far too thin as I made my way across the park to the start. It was just 07.45am and the masses were gathering - children, pensioners, dogs, families, the buzz was quite incredible. I set myself a target to beat my slowest recorded UK time, bearing in mind the heat, the huge hill, the altitude and the fact that this holiday has featured plenty of delicious South African wine. The odds were stacked against me.

In the end I was surprised with more than just my time and result. A few hours later the email with the statistics dropped into my inbox. One thousand two hundred and sixty runners had completed the 5K that morning. That takes mass participation to a level far above anything we in the UK can comprehend for a weekly occurrence.