Cote d'Azur

The British seasons feel less distinct than I remember; they have started to mould into each other with our temperamental weather and more frequent storms. According to the clock change we are now officially in springtime, the flowers and my hay fever confirm that too, but sadly the temperature is yet to follow. As my friends and I get older it also seems that the wedding season has become less defined. Until recently I had never been to a winter or foreign wedding, now these invites have become the norm.

The most recent was only a short flight down to the South of France, no harder to travel for than the next wedding up in Scotland. Having never experienced the Cote d’Azur I could not pass the opportunity to make the most of this trip and extend the stay, it was the Easter holidays after all. The wedding itself was further inland set amongst stunning vineyards, so the days prior I chose to make the most of the famous Mediterranean coastline.

As you probably know, I love to incorporate sport into my travels. Hiring a road bike was the perfect opportunity to explore this part of Europe. Day one consisted of a coffee stop in Monaco followed by lunch in the Italian town of Ventimiglia. Three countries in one ride sounds impressive but I have to admit it was only two hours of cycling. To compensate for the frequent stops and large quantities of food and coffee I ambitiously set off up Col de la Madon, a mountain just shy of 1000m in height. Comparing this to home it sounded impossible, a hill three times the height of anything on Dartmoor with no let ups. The smooth road surface, lack of traffic and continuous yet gentle incline made it surprisingly enjoyable. I found my steady pace provided plenty of time to absorb the incredible scenery and views. As for the descent - I am still dreaming about that now.

It's not fair

How do you define fair? This question has been behind numerous headlines recently from sport through to politics. I have found myself digging deeper to understand exactly how I feel over the proposed changes to disability benefit, the incoming sugar tax and in sport the continuous debate over equal prize money. The aforementioned issues do not affect me directly and initially I was certain as to which side of the fence I sat, that is until hearing the convincing counter arguments.

The introduction of the sugar tax has been the only debate that has not once caused me to question my initial instinct. It has infuriated me listening to the soft drink companies complaining about the injustice of a tax increase, fighting the Government’s decision to the bitter end. I find it sad that they do not care for the health of our young people and am baffled that they ignore the worrying statistics of obesity due to sugary soft drinks. The sugar tax is only a small step but it is at least one in the right direction.

The prize money in sport debate has been revisited as a result of some strong opinions from within the sport of tennis; Indian Wells (now former) CEO inferred that the women’s game would be nowhere today without the male stars such as Federer and Nadal. World number one Novak Djokovic added spice to the topic by questioning the fairness of equal prize money. There are so many pieces to this jigsaw which sadly I do not have space to address. The women’s game is continually growing in participation numbers and popularity, however the elephant in the room remains – in a grand slam they only play three sets compared to the men’s five. I will leave you to ponder that one. I am just glad that my sport of Modern Pentathlon appears, on the surface at least, to be equal.

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.